


My Greatest Treasure

by sanguia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Collars, Cunnilingus, Dacryphilia, Dom/sub, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy, Female Gaze, Femdom, Gender Role Reversal, Male Submissive, Malesub, Master/Pet, Matriarchal society, Matriarchy, Men Crying, Non-Sexual Submission, POV Alternating, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Service Submission, Vaginal Sex, Virginity Kink, Worldbuilding, sex in chapter 3, the female lead is a dragon but there is no bestiality in this lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 56,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguia/pseuds/sanguia
Summary: A fearsome and undefeated dragon demands tribute, and she gets it in the form of a virginal prince.
Relationships: Dragon/Prince, Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 47
Kudos: 208





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from my femdom one-shot series Boss Lady (https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631276/chapters/59509009) but this prompt was just too good for me to just write a single chapter of. That being said, I don't intend for this to be a massive longfic like my other story. It's gonna be short and sweet (by my standards, anyway lol). This prompt was also given to me by my sister and obviously I'm gonna go all the damn way for my sibling. <3
> 
> Anyway, imagine Freyja's humanoid form basically looking like a tiefling, more or less. There will be no fucking when she's in her dragon form, lol.

In the dark room, even the ticking of the longcase clock in the hall outside his room has a relaxed feeling, as if it is a heart-beat at rest. Adonis feels as if the air moved like cool water and the aroma of his uncle's scented candles infused him far more deeply than it did in the light of day. In the twilight the fabrics are muted hues, as if they too await dawn to ignite their colours for all to see.

It’s calm, serene to an almost otherworldly degree. He can’t even hear the birds singing yet, and for the umpteenth time Adonis finds himself idly picking at his sleeve to find some type of distraction. There is not a thing he could use in this room, which is entirely intentional— no matter how many times he assures mother he won’t do anything to try to get out of this… arrangement, she nonetheless stuck him in a room devoid of anything that could potentially be used for an escape or suicide, no matter how benign they are, and locked him in here.

He’s a prince, yet he’s in a damn room for  _ prisoners. _

His current appearance would no doubt cause confusion to anyone ignorant to the current situation— kneeling in the middle of an empty room and dressed in his finest courtly vest made of rich, red cotton velvet; fitted together with a long sleeved cotton gauze shirt with small ruffles and black satin pants. His hand traces over the elaborate hand sewn golden brocade that adorns the front of his vest. The servants had spent hours prettying him up, making sure his hair was perfectly trimmed and coiffed, his jaw clean shaven, his eyebrows plucked to perfection, his rings perfectly fitted, and his accessories finished off with a single gold studded earring on his left ear. The last time his wardrobe was so specifically tailored like this was when he had his debutante, as naturally he had to look his best in hopes of catching the eyes of a prospective lady. And he always,  _ always  _ made sure to keep his neck bare.

Not that he’ll ever have the chance in catching the eyes of someone now, since he will likely be dead by the time the sun rises.

With his mind beginning to cloud with images of himself dead and discarded, his hands begin to quake, and Adonis heaves a long suffering sigh in a vain attempt to calm his growing nerves. 

A creak of the door behind him signals the entrance of one of the guards. Adonis doesn’t turn around when she respectfully addresses him.

“My liege, are you well?”

He could laugh, but he doesn’t, nor does he even attempt to smile sardonically at his current predicament. 

“About as well as someone who’s about to be sacrificed can be.” He murmurs.

There’s silence, obviously, there’s not really an appropriate reply for something woefully apathetic and Adonis inwardly curses himself for it. He’s a  _ prince, _ of House Ventress no less— His mother rules this land! How dare he sit here and just wallow in his own wretched lassitude! He should hold his head up high, full of pride of serving his country.

_ For Queen and Country.  _ He repeats the mantra in his mind, the motto is for the knights but he finds it appropriate given the current situation. Soon it turns into a stutter, to something more accurate, however.  _ F-For Mother and C-Country…  _ And Adonis grits his teeth, now feeling a growing ire due to how fragile how voice sounds in his own blasted mind. Like a tearful plea from a small boy who wants to avoid a punishment.

Ah, his hands are shaking more now.

“...It is time for us to depart, my liege.” The guard says, stirring him from his thoughts and he inhales deeply.

With concentrated effort, Adonis steadies himself as he stands. A Ventress never stumbles. That’s what his mother and sister say, anyway. They’re a lineage of strong women and strong… well, no one thinks of men as particularly tenacious. 

_ Fur of iron, soul of steel,  _ or so their Family Crest says. Such pretty words he knows will never apply to him.

He turns, and with he falters— he  _ stumbles.  _ And with that, he wonders how much he is destined to fall.

With every next step, he has to remind himself to straighten his back, to keep his hands in front of him, to point his chin upwards, to ignore the perspiration dampening his brow when he’s flanked and escorted by guards by all sides. Whatever time he has left, he has to make mother’s Empire and her subjects proud. Just…  _ something.  _ At least then, he thinks he can feel some modicum of acceptance for his inevitable fate. Some solace that this will be worth it.

Adonis had never been out of the palace or its grounds. For him all floors are marble, what else would they be? Even the cellar in the tower he was locked in was pristine. All stair rails are ornate mahogany, carved and polished so that it shined. He glumly trails his hand across it as he makes the journey to the main foyer. Family portraits of female relatives are painted in oils and hang in golden frames. He quickly attempts to find his sister’s, knowing full well this will be the last he’ll see of her, seeing how she’s halfway across the country and not even here to see him off.

Perhaps he spends too much time reminiscing over the palace, but his mind continues to linger.

Nothing in the palace ever got dirty. He had never seen dust in his short twenty-one years of life. No matter where he went, the air was scented with fresh flowers, yet he doesn’t think he’s ever seen a flower wilt or die. Food was always perfect and served precisely on time, but he had never even seen the kitchen. 

And then suddenly he’s outside, his slow lumbering steps slowly approaching a carriage for him.

He’s  _ outside  _ and he’s going to  _ leave,  _ just like that. What should have been at least an hour long trek to the main gate was merely finished in a blink of an eye. His mind is a haze, unable to grasp on a single image, and his breathing quickens. Adonis shuts his eyes, exhaling heavily, and keeps his head held high.

_ For Queen and Country. _

There’s a crowd of guards and servants, all solemn and silent. There is still no birdsong and the sky is grey, lanterns act the lighting for the gloom.  _ Don’t stumble,  _ he all but screams in his mind,  _ Head held high. _

It is by the grace of the goddess that he is able to walk the length of the courtyard without slipping. 

But he is not able to meet his mother’s eyes when he reaches her. He keeps his gaze on the carriage behind her. Despite that, he can see she’s wearing her finest, too— A cream coloured long vest cut that features a satin lining, and it’s almost swallowed up by the massive bear fur cloak she adorns. 

Perhaps he  _ also  _ spends too much time mulling over clothing. Not like he has much else to do now.

A firm hand squeezes his shoulder, and his body tenses.

“You’re doing this country proud,” comes his mother's voice. It’s cold and distant, and Adonis knows that he’s already dead in her eyes. Briefly, he wonders if she’s already preemptively had his funeral while he was locked in his room.

To his dismay, her words do not bring him comfort.

He only manages a muted nod for a reply, and when he enters the carriage he comes to the realization that he’s never actually ridden one of these things. It soon begins to sway, and he hears the horses’ hooves hit the ground. Lips quivering, he quickly turns back to look out the back window as he gradually sees the palace become smaller.

The palace has architecture like no other, having been mostly rebuilt before he was born. Mother had shipped an architect from overseas. She knew their ideas would be sufficiently exotic in her country, and used it to inspire awe in the populous. Instead of peaks in the roof, she had gold domed towers built instead. Ostentatiously detailed pillars litters the porch, and a garden hangs from the ceiling. Most of the material used to build it was imported from foreign lands.

His mother wanted to make something never before seen, and she did. It is a truly breathtaking building, and perhaps even intimidating for the other nobles. It’s a status symbol of the highest regard. It demands attention, and as Queen mother certainly wanted all eyes on her.

Such a shame that out of everything, she ended up attracting the attention of a dragon.

* * *

Men are bargaining chips.

Adonis knows that. He’s acutely aware of that simple fact. Him and his brothers are pawns to make alliances with other monarchs with marriage. All they had to do was sit pretty, present their necks and if a woman his mother approved of showed interest they’d essentially be shipped off to their new home. Subservience is an innately male trait and he… believed he had excelled in it. He still likes to think he does, but at twenty-one his brothers have been wed while he is decidedly not.

Instead, he’s being chained to a wooden pole and waiting to get eaten.

The chains are wrapped around his body in a cold, unforgiven embrace. The guards passively bind him, not meeting his eyes or saying a word, and an overflowing sense of doom blankets the entire area. Not even his audience make a sound as they silently watch him become imprisoned. Sadness sits uncomfortably in the pit of Adonis’ stomach and yet his eyes remain dry, expression impassive— at least, he keeps his expression in check as best as he’s able given the situation. He knows that if he even lets a fraction out that the rest will follow, a never ending torrent of grief.

_ Still playing my role as a bargaining chip, _ he derisively thinks,  _ it was either me or the palace gets bathed in flame… _

He bites his lip hard enough it almost bleeds. If he had been able to successfully attract a woman, would he have been able to escape this situation? Where did he go wrong? Did he truly not pay enough attention to his appearance? Did he rely too much on the servants? Did he not flutter his eyes enough? Did he not keep his voice demure enough? Did he— Did he—

The sudden wail of an ivory horn makes him feel as though he’s going to jump out of his skin. Blaring. Unceasing. Crippling Adonis’ thoughts and assaulting his ears. Thankfully, it’s only for a few torturous seconds, and once the sound ebbs away he can only hear the flapping of the flags some of the soldiers carry— his mother had brought a small army for this. An audience for his sacrifice that makes the discomfort in his chest grow exponentially. 

The woman who had blown the horn unravels a scroll, projecting her voice as best she’s able in the vast, desolate field. The streak of light slowly approaches them as the sun gradually begins to appear over the mountain peaks and between the clouds.

“As agreed between Queen Cordelia Ventress the Second of Dacroustein and Freyja the Terrible, the Unspeakable, the Death-Bringer, the Mother of Tears, the Beast, the Monster, the Conqueror, the Bane of Women…” The speaker takes a deep breath, “The Scourge of Humanity, the Hoarder of Treasures, the Devourer, the Eater of Innocence, the Mauler of Virgins, the Defiler, the Empress of All, the Ruler of the Heavens… Prince Adonis Ventress shall be given as tribute, in exchange that the capital of Dacroustein be spared from fire and brimstone.”

There is a silence then, almost as deafening as the blowing horn, and for a terse few seconds Adonis dares to hope that the dragon might just never appear. But if the beast never shows… would they… just leave him here? 

The tight, nauseating feeling in his chest grows.

Colour drains from Adonis’ face when a roar comes from the mountains, and with that comes a flock of terrified birds. The sound tears through him like a shard of glass, heart thudding like a rock rattling in a box. It pierces through his brain and ignites a primeval pathway— adrenaline surges through his veins and his mind only repeats a single word.

_ Run. _

He hears the thunderous footsteps of everyone else suddenly backing away and his eyes, though his vision becomes blurry with unshed tears, catches the silhouette of a massive winged animal that quickly approaches him. The sound of its wings drown out the resounding shouts behind him, and the closer it comes the more its blood red scales seem to shine when it hits the sunlight. 

And it’s headed straight to him.

_ Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun _ —

“I don’t want to be k-killed—!!” Adonis breathing becomes quick and shallow, and the tears run down his cheeks like a steady stream. A sharp, broken sob hisses out of his throat as he thrashes his body against the chains that keep him prone. His desperation only grows as he continues to scream for a savour. “I-I want to live!”

He can’t make his country proud. He doesn’t  _ want _ to, Adonis would much prefer living the rest of his life in disgrace if it meant he won’t be fed to this— to this  _ thing. _

The ground shakes when the dragon lands, the creature the size of a building. Its rippling muscle is covered with shimmering, almost iridescent scales that blazes as bright as an ever flickering flame. Behind it, its tail cracks like a whip. And the horns, proud curved peaks that sit on its head, and sharper than any blade.

Everything begins to sound muffled and distant. His stomach flips when he stares at its golden serpentine eyes. The creature seems to appraise him, tilting its head curiously and sniffing the air, and his mind becomes a halting blank. He’s unable to think, to feel, to speak, to hear,  _ anything.  _ The only thing he can register in his mind is that his body is shaking uncontrollable, and a stream of warm wetness runs down his legs. 

When the dragon exhales its breath has enough force to make him feel as though he’s about to pass out. And when it opens its mouth and he sees its rows of dagger sharp teeth— that’s exactly what happens. 

His eyes roll back, mouth parting in a soundless scream, and Adonis loses consciousness.

* * *

Adonis awakes with panting breaths, his throat desperate for any liquid to parch the fire that builds up inside of him. It’s— suffocating in here? Where is this? Images of the dragon’s eyes flashing in his mind startles him enough that he begins thrashing around. He’s in something soft.

And then he’s not, because he falls out of it.

Chest still heaving, he frantically looks around, fully expecting to be in some type of holding cell if not in some type of purgatory. He’s… dead, isn’t he? That’s what supposed to happen? Perhaps he’s dreaming, which is the only thing he can think of since as it turns out he fell out of a damn  _ bed.  _ A bed! One with purple silken sheets that seem to beckon him to crawl back in, and it’s massive, like a billowing cloud. 

Blearily, he rubs his eyes, and when the rest of the… room… comes into focus he realizes he’s in some sort of cave. Or something made of rocks. A structure of nature. When he looks upwards there is a radiant streak of light, though he cannot see how far the ceiling goes. Its dazzling and inviting rays provide warmth for his body, and now that he thinks about it, this cave is suspiciously warm in general given that he doesn’t think there’s any heating in this abode.

When he stands and takes a step back, there’s a  _ clink.  _

Turning around quickly and suddenly feeling like a cornered hare, he’s rendered speechless by the sight before him.

The heaps of gold is larger than mother’s own treasury, full of gems and jewels that stain the ruddy light. There are bejeweled swords and shields, pristine glass vessels, ingots, ormolu style furnishings and marble figurines that litter across the floor to the point Adonis cannot even see the cave stone any longer. It’s such a sight of  _ wealth  _ that he cannot help but begin to feel overwhelmed by it all.

His knees buckle, and though he attempts to stay standing, he falls when he hears  _ it  _ approaching.

He falls on his rear when his captor peers over its seemingly endless hoard of treasure. It glides over the small mountain of gold to land directly in front of him, and Adonis thinks he may just faint again.

He doesn’t, which is its own torture, forced to be awake and conscious while the beast stares him down again. Why didn’t it just eat him? Why bring him here? Oh, goddess, it’s going to— it’s going to play around with him, isn’t it? He’s seen this before, how predators torment its meal before tearing it apart. 

Merely looking into its eyes turns Adonis’ skin into a sickly pallor, and he doesn’t even want to ruminate on how its claws are no doubt able to lacerate even the sturdiest to mere ribbons of flesh and bone. The dread and fear makes nausea bubble in the back of his throat, and a thrumming came from the beast’s jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke along with the stench of sulphurous fumes.

_ It’s going to burn me alive,  _ he thinks absently for a moment.

The smoke increases, but no flames exit the maw of the dragon, the wisps only becoming more bountiful to the point that Adonis coughs and covers his eyes to avoid the sting.

And then there’s a burst of air that nearly knocks him half across the room, and it most certainly knocks the breath out of him. Spluttering, and now disoriented, he flails around as the smoke slowly lessens and turns into mere vapours.

Coughing and attempting to catch his breath, his vision becomes momentarily unfocused, but when he is able to regain control of his sight he sees something that makes him question whether this is truly reality once more.

Something undeniably monstrous but also…  _ human? _

Bipedal, about a head taller than him and with an hourglass figure— now lacking its wings but retaining its tail and horns. It’s about his size now and when it saunters towards him with a strange air of elegance and refinement Adonis finds himself rooted in the spot. His body and mind  _ screams  _ at him to run, but he is transfixed by the fact that… it has a human face. A human nose with a human mouth and sharp cheekbones he can only— perhaps begrudgingly—- call  _ beautiful.  _ The eyes however… remain serpentine, golden and with slit pupils, but on a human face they are simply spellbinding, holding a coruscate gleam. It even has  _ hair.  _ Jet black strands that are draped down its shoulders.

And the body. Also human, save for the tail. Its curves are juxtaposed with… its bestial characteristics. It has its glistening scales that covers its entire body, the colour still a deep crimson, with its hands and feet having black scales.

And…  _ And... _

_ She _ doesn’t wear a thing.

It’s not something he’s particularly proud of, but his eyes wander to certain… places… and due to his strict teachings, and growing fear, he sharply turns his head back when he catches a glimpse of a pair of voluptuous breasts.

_ It… she…? Dragons are mammals…? Wha... _

He doesn’t keep his gaze off her for long, as footsteps force him to look back at her. His breath hitches when he watches her mouth curl in a smile that borders on devious and  _ ah,  _ her teeth are still so,  _ so  _ dangerously sharp. When her tongue darts out to lick her lips he feels himself begin to tremble all over, his sweat making his clothes stick uncomfortably on his skin. 

And when she sniffs the air he whimpers.

_ She’s going to rip my throat out and then eat me——— _

  
  
  


_ ———Lovely, lovely, lovely! _

Freyja takes another long exhale, greedily taking in the heavenly aroma of  _ dread  _ that the princeling gives off. It never ceases to be the one of the most intoxicating scents she’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing. The cute little thing’s heart beats so loudly, too, and she takes in every frantic thump that rings in her eardrums with glee.

And then there’s his face. 

His lips are tinted the barest pink and his pale skin is flawless. His silver eyes shine like twin moons in those grand dining halls his type seem to like so much. Even his short chestnut brown hair remains coiffed and voluminous despite the flight needed to transport him here.  _ My, oh my, _ perhaps it would be prudent to add human hair products to her treasury.

He’s only just arrived here, but she feels he’s already deserved some praise.

“Aren’t you such a lovely looking creature.”

Oh, and Freyja’s always enjoyed this part— when a recognition flickers on a human’s expression as their eyes widen and brows reach their hairlines.

“You—” He splutters inelegantly, “You can… speak…? I-I thought that was just a tall tale...”

His voice tapers off into a nervous squeak, his expression telling that he’s surprised at himself for speaking so brazenly. His throat bobs when he swallows thickly, and the same word invades her thoughts once more.

_ Lovely! _

She beckons him. “Stand.”

It takes him a moment, and he fumbles for several more moments, but he manages to stand with shaking knees. His eyes dart to and fro around the cave, obviously looking for an escape route, and Freyja bites her cheek inwardly to stifle a blithe set of giggles. Adorable, really, but also makes her own heart bumping. Will he run? A part of her wants him to, just so she has an excuse to rough him up.

Though, he apparently gives up on that desire since he obviously doesn’t find any sort of route. His eyes land on her, and she spreads her arms.

“Please, do admire all you like, I so enjoy being flattered by your kind’s amazement.”

He blinks owlishly, his breath stuttering and shaking, like he’s forgotten how to inhale and exhale. His eyes seem to look at her face for a split second before his gaze lands at her feet and stays there, which makes her feel delighted, but an awful many things are making her feel delighted about this resplendent morsel of a man.

“I will give you permission to speak if you wish to. Be sure to laden your comments with the endless praise I am deserving of.”

Whether or not he is aware she is making a jest is irrelevant. What  _ is  _ relevant is how his knees wobble like a newborn fawn. And… he’s got far too much clothes on. She tuts at him, forcing him to look her in the eyes, and she flashes her sharp teeth at him with a cocksure grin. 

“I believe it is time for me to inspect my treasure. Strip.”

The princeling's face falls faster than a corpse in cement boots. His mouth hangs with lips slightly parted and his eyes become as wide as they could stretch. It's the desperation in the tremor of his voice and the panic in his eyes and the fear— the pure, unadulterated terror.

Freyja can see her arousal begin to stir within her, and a slight wetness begins to form in her lower lips.

“...S-Strip…” She hears him murmur, and she flippantly waves her hand at him.

“I can see that your current garment is of the highest quality, and I wouldn’t have accepted anything less, but surely you must know that having pants stained with your fluids is most unsightly.”

The realization that flickers across his expression is immediate as he quickly glances down to his crotch, and a small whimper comes out of him when he quickly tries to cover himself with his hands. He soon becomes a ball of sweltering embarrassment when a blush quickly forms on his cheeks. Really, she would have done this herself when he was unconscious, but it is oh so more entertaining when she receives a stripshow.

Still, to get things moving, she feels it prudent to threaten him.

“Either you strip or I will rip your clothes off.” For extra effect, she lowers her voice to a low growl. “In my bestial form.”

That appears to light a fire under his ass, as he gropes around his body to begin taking the clothes off himself. Ah,  _ lovely,  _ almost like he’s so eager to please her and not outright terrified. He’ll be just like that soon enough. 

He frees himself from his vest, soon unbuttoning his shirt with shaking movements. His brows are pinched together like he’s doing something that actually requires a modicum of concentration. When he takes it off he swallows, and she takes in his semi-broad chest and rounded pecs. Not too muscular, and not too scrawny. His forearms are streaked with blue veins that sit comfortably on his silky pale skin. There’s a beauty spot on the palm of one of his hands, and she kind of wants to reach over and bite it.

There’s a greater sense of hesitation when his hands move to his pants, and she can smell the spike of dismay that hits him. 

“Go on,” she commands when he begins taking a little too long for her liking, her tone brokering no room for protest.

With a heavy inhale he takes it off. Quickly, too, probably wanting to get over with as fast as he’s able. She has a feeling he’s a dancer, he certainly has a body of one, and now instead of biting his hand she wants to give those bare, luscious thighs a good nip.

All in due time.

With gritted teeth, he does the same for his undergarment, and soon he is completely naked. She tilts her head, appraising him.

“You dance?”

There’s a brief look of confusion, and he appears to wrestle with himself on whether he should answer in the first place. Wisely, he does respond.

“...Yes. B-Ballet.”

Ah, that likely means he should be fairly flexible. Something she has every intention of exploiting later.

For now, she wishes to assess his untouched body. Her  _ treasure. _

Her eyes hungrily roam his nude form. His body is tense like a tightly coiled rope, shoulders slightly shivering— not from any cold or anything of the sort, Freyja’s very particular about keeping her abode just the right temperature. Oh no, he shivers because of his fear, and she smells off him again. Like an elk she’s about to have for a snack. It’s a scent that makes her sigh contentedly as she lazily takes it all in. 

His hands cover his groin, and as adorable as his modesty is, she knows that regardless of how he feels about it that she’ll be getting a good look at  _ his  _ treasure sooner rather than later. Freyja hums, seeing that his nipples have hardened, and a blush so fiercely scarlet that it could rival her own scales graces his handsome face. His jaw looks so tense that it just might shatter. How cute.

She begins to slowly circle him— acutely aware of how she makes him feel like a cornered animal and reveling in it— and she takes in every detail as she looks down at his quivering form. His entire body appears to have been shaved recently as there’s not a hair on him, save for the top of his head. There’s a small mole on his bicep. When she gets behind him she licks her lips at the sight of the delectable curves of his ass, and the fact that he noticeably clenches his cheeks makes her nearly laugh. She can hear his heartbeat quicken for a brief moment, and a low thrum of pleasure hisses at the back of her throat.

“You’ve a firm, healthy body. A fine addition to my treasury, indeed.”

Circling back in front of him and catching his terse gaze before he quickly and nervously averts his eyes. 

“M-My…” He starts, then swallows thickly, and perhaps he hopes to strike up a conversation in hopes to distract himself from his inevitable fate, “My fathers made sure to extol the merits of e-excercise and a healthy diet in o-order to attract a lady…”

There’s a slight bitterness in his tone near the end, but no matter. Freyja raises a single brow with a smirk.

“Oho? You had more than one father?”

He purses his lips into a thin line. “Along with her consort my m-mother had… had a harem of concubines… T-They all helped raise me, b-but were dismissed when my sister was born…”

If there was something she feels she has in common with humans, it’s how much she and humanity enjoy putting the lesser sex in their rightful place, as well as how much they enjoy in indulging in pleasures of the flesh. When she takes a step forward, he takes a quick step back, and a wet hiccup escapes his quivering lips. His eyes shimmer with a new onset of tears that threaten to spill over. 

“Wha—What are you going to do with me…?”

The sheer  _ desperation  _ that radiates from that squeak of a question makes her body sing. Desire unfurls itself in her lower belly and she bares her teeth in a smile. 

“I find it terribly boring to just off a paltry human on sight,” she purrs, “Most have something to offer… Family relics, fine silken robes, coin purses, the sword on their holster, their undying worship…” She leans, lowering her voice in a sultry whisper, “Their virgin sons.”

Mortification, Freyja quickly decides, is an expression that looks very much endearing on the princeling. She can tell the salaciousness in her voice is not lost to him. Another step forward for her is another step backwards for him, until his back hits the wall of the cave and he gasps sharply.

“I have razed many civilizations asunder. I never do shy away from causing a scene, mass murder or otherwise. But I do enjoy… tormenting them more. Threatening to turn their cities to ash, not only for my own personal enjoyment, but because I find it yields more tangible results.” She puts her hands against the wall, on either side of his face, effectively pinning him as she watches the sweat begin to perspire on his forehead. “For countless nights for just as countless cities I have demanded tribute.”

One of her hands just barely grazes his throat, her nails sharp enough to puncture through his fragile skin if she puts the barest hint of pressure against him. “Just how all the world’s treasures belong to me, so too does the virginity of every man.” She leans forward, her breath ghosting his blushing ear. “I know that you are aware of my many titles. You know which ones I am alluding to, don’t you? Say them.”

His breath hitches, and she can tell he has to force the words out of his mouth.

“T-The Eater of Innocence... the Mauler of Virgins… the D-Defiler.” His voice falters, “Y-You’re… You’re going to eat me b-because my body is p-pure and untainted…”

Freyja throws her head back for a bark of laughter. Oh, how his voice croaks! How his body shakes! How hopeless the look of his eyes appear! Probably more priceless than the countless trinkets and baubles she has in her possession. 

“I have mounted many men, yes!” She roars in delight, before crooning at his terrified expression, her mirth overflowing in her tone. “My, you seem apprehensive… Such appetizing dread, how very exciting.”

Apparently, that’s enough to make him become weightless, as his knees buckle and he lands on his ass when he falls to the floor in shock and dismay. She chuckles darkly, “As tempting and lovely as you are now, I believe the deflowering should be savoured… It should be a spectacle and it should be done  _ right.  _ I shall not take you this night.”

His shoulders jump at that, head jerking back at her with wide eyes and now damp cheeks that have tears flowing down them. He makes an incomprehensible reply, something between a whine and a whimper, and Freyja bends down to capture his trembling chin in her thumb and finger. He continues to hide his cock away from her sight with his hands which, well, she supposes the dedication is commendable.

“Make no mistake, princeling, I intend to take you. And I intend to take you many, many times. For now, however, you’ve successively endeared me enough that I think I shall simply enjoy having you as my pet.” She narrows her eyes in glee, “Endeavor to entertain me, and you shall remain intact, for now.”

He seems to find his voice again.

“...What… What do you mean…?”

She chortles under her breath, “Come now, princeling, let’s gather some context clues shall we?” Freyja steps back, her hand reaching out to take out a golden item from her treasury. “It is human custom for a man to be collared once he is claimed, is it not?”

He gapes like a floundering fish with how he opens his mouth, then closes it. After a few seconds, he opts to nod his head jerkily.

“Excellent.” Is all she says in response, looming over him as she clamps the collar around his frail neck. She savours the moment by doing it agonizingly slowly, relishing in his panting-like breathing and slanted brows. The golden collar shimmers and shines with encrusted rubies, emeralds and amethysts.   
  


“You see, I’ve decided to indulge in a new desire, to actually keep my new conquest as a pet. To dress him in my finest gemstones and jewels. Finally a brand  _ new  _ addition to my treasury— a pet who will look pretty and do my bidding.” She tugs on his chain, forcing him to stand, and when she brings her face close to his he whimpers like the dog he is. “I’ve finally claimed my first man in accordance with your customs. How lucky you are! And if you have any protest about this frankly overly generous arrangement I’m positing, well...” She shrugs with a haughty smirk, “I simply do not care.”

Without waiting for him to make a response, Freyja grabs a fistful of long, dangly necklaces from her endless treasury. These too are bejeweled, and there are satisfying clinks as the gemstones hit each other as she jostles the chains around. Unlike with the collar, she makes quick work of adorning him with no shortage of golden accessories— necklaces, bangles, and rings.

“In my humble and yet always correct opinion, such adornments are the single most vital element to your future wardrobe, because you certainly won’t be wearing much else.” She ghosts a finger down his clavicle and chest, and he remains rooted to spot, no doubt still needing to get over his initial shock and fear of her touching him, “I find your attempts of modesty both lovely and endearing. I shall grant you permission to wear a loincloth.”

Her finger then goes back up to his chin, over his quivering lips, and she pushes forward. She feels his teeth before he becomes startled and opens his mouth wider as she delves further in, feeling his warm tongue. His inexperience makes him stay still and not even suckle on her digit. The only movement that does occur is his quickly blinking eyes and how his tongue pulsates ever so slightly.

“You are a dancer,” she says almost playfully, “I think I will grant you permission to wear a face veil. The type that the dancers in the far east wear, where it drapes over your nose and mouth. Yes, I think it’ll make you look exceptionally enticing.”

She takes her finger out of his mouth, looking him up and down and musing about any further adornments. He will only wear expertly crafted masterpieces, as it reflects well on her, of course. She cannot wear her countless trinkets and silks herself, as they are destroyed upon her transformation to her bestial form. Oh, her pet has yet to realize how pampered he’ll be here.

In the midst of her ruminations, the princeling stutters out his voice.

“You… You’re going to let me live…” He says slowly, as in disbelief. Freyja raises a brow. Apparently this one must be a little slow.

Her hand wraps around the chain connecting to his collar, “Yes.” Is all she says before she pulls on it, forcing him to stumble forward and almost fall against her, and his subsequent gasp of surprise makes her feel a spike of pleasure hit her core.

Their eyes meet when he has to crane his neck to look up at her, and she smirks.

“Welcome to your new abode, Adonis. I so do hope that you will make a fine pet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intend to chuck in some worldbuilding and lore here and there whenever I'm able. Matriarchy is my damn brand and I'm gonna go out of my way to oppress men. ;) Would love to hear what y'all think of it. This was super fun to write. 
> 
> Freyja's unabashedly a villain (and loves being one!), but despite all that, I do intend for this to be a... somewhat cute romance. 
> 
> Also my sister wanted the dragon named Freyja. The fact her name is similar to a main character for my longfic is purely coincidental!! lol


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play a game I like to call 'how much random lore and worldbuilding can sanguia make up on the fly before she completely derails the actual plot.'

They say men should fear their wives.

For the wife is the head of the family, as is the holy goddess is the head of the church. And even as the church must fear the goddess, so must the husbands fear their wives. And this inward fear must be shewed by an outward meekness and lowliness. He must not be passionate and forward to her or any of the family, especially in her sight, as that he must govern his tongue and countenance so that it may not be offensive or troublesome unto the wife.

For if there is no fear and reverence in the inferior, there can be no constant honour yielded to the superior. 

Or so Adonis has been taught.

His hand traces over the baudy collar on his neck. It’s heavy, but not heavy enough for him to think the entire thing is made of gold— perhaps this is a normal collar that was bathed in liquid gold before hardening, and then encrusted with jewels. He really wouldn’t put it past a dragon to do something quite so ostentatious.

A collar is put in place to always remind a man of his place. That’s just… a thing everyone does, and not something he’s ever really bothered to question. Growing up, he just assumed he’d be given something snug to wear around his neck and be ‘fearful’ of his future wife, but… in a completely metaphorical sense. Not _actually_ afraid, but still plenty honourable for his spouse. He’d just hope whoever he’d be married to would never give him an actual reason to be scared.

_I am certainly fearful of that dragon…_

He frowns.

_She is_ not _my wife!!_

She may put this damnable collar on him but _obviously_ this absurd union will never be recognized in any chapel with any sense. She is making a mockery of him and his country’s customs, clearly. The— The _humiliation_ she just put him through continues to make him feel a sweltering heat on his face. Making him strip bare and having to think he’s about to be eaten only to drape a ridiculous amount of jewelry on his body. And then there’s the loincloth that only covers his front that’s also paired with a damn _thong—_

It barely covers his crotch, and on his buttocks the thong digs into between his cheeks, uncomfortable enough that at times he has to pick at it. Like the face veil he wears, it’s black and gold gauzy chiffon, with beaded designs and fringe.

Adonis exhales heavily. He’s had some time to gather his bearings. He’s been through a great deal in a scant amount of hours, and his mind still swims with thoughts of… everything. When she was speaking with him he could scarcely believe that he wasn’t just hallucinating, and so his mind and words worked a lot slower than he’d like to ever admit. That beast that calls herself Freyja has gone off to do goddess knows what, and he finds himself pacing to figure out any possible escape for this absolute lunacy that he’s been subjected to.

_“Endeavor to entertain me, and you shall remain intact, for now.”_

_“I so do hope that you will make a fine pet.”_

The heat on his cheeks increases tenfold and so does his heart rate. _She’s mocking me,_ he reminds himself, _but if she’s going to let me live for now I must take full advantage of it._

Especially since she stated she has every intention of taking him. The mere thought causes his stomach to flip with growing nausea, and he has to bite back a terrified whine. When he realizes his knees are shaking he pinches himself on the forearm in an attempt to snap out of it.

He looks around the room, nearly blinded again from the shimmering jewels and metals, and he takes notes of the paintings and pristine fabrics littered across the place. His frown deepens when he realizes there is only one pathway and he certainly isn’t about to risk taking it. That’s where a damn _dragon_ went. And so, that only leaves one option.

There is a light that enters this part of the cave. Big enough to illuminate the room, though he can’t see where the hole is, which gives a spike of anxiety. Surely if he reaches it, he should be able to escape but… how high is it? How far must he climb to reach salvation?

And if he manages to get out, then what? 

He shakes his head to banish any unproductive thoughts. He still has his virginity thankfully intact, so he still has his worth upon returning home, surely. Mother will embrace him because of that. S-Surely there must be a contingent of guards trekking towards the mountain for his rescue because she doesn’t _actually_ expect him to be dead. She expects him to escape… r-right?

His mind harkens back to when he was tied to the wooden pole, and how he had pitifully exclaimed about his desire to live.

It’s a desire he still strongly possesses. Sure… if he manages to escape _the_ Freyja, that alone would make his country proud of him… perhaps even give them the morale needed to fight back—!!

Gathering what’s left of his shattered pride, Adonis gazes at the intimidating wall of the cave. This is… This is his only salvation… he’s— He’s a prince! N-Not a pet!

With that thought repeating in his mind, he finds the strength to begin scaling the stone ledges that jut out of the wall. Every moment he reaches out his movements are punctuated by hesitance, and despite the fact he knows he is probably even a metre off the ground yet he refuses to look down. _Only up,_ he thinks, _Only focus on going up and reaching an exit._

There are… distractions, however. Namely the thong that makes lifting his damn legs a discomfort because it is so _tight._ The front of it is fine, sort of, with his cock and balls not straining too much against the thin fabric. It’s mainly the backside that’s giving him embarrassing issues and he can feel his face get even _warmer._

_O-Only focus on going up!_

The sooner he gets out of here, the sooner he can free himself from such an obscene outfit. Belatedly, he realizes he really should have divested some of the jewelry that weighs him down— especially the ones that at times clink when it taps against the rock, which in turn never fails to give him mini heart attacks. Each time it makes a sound he freezes, waiting for the necklaces and chains to stop moving before attempting to climb again.

The result is that he’s significantly slower than he wants to be. A thin layer of sweat forms across his body as he continues to exert his muscles the longer he remains on the wall. Gradual as his climb may be, he thinks he’s at a decent height now. Though that doesn’t stop his mind screaming at him to hurry up.

With every minute that passes he thinks that the dragon must be finishing whatever it is she’s doing and coming back. What will she do once she sees him scaling the wall? She can _fly,_ if he doesn’t get out beforehand she’ll definitely eat him!

A rock falls away beneath his feet, and Adonis is unprepared to suddenly need to support his entire body weight with the grip of his hands alone. With growing desperation he attempts to reach another ledge with one of his feet, though it’s far and the resulting movement makes his knee hit an edge of a sharp stone. He gasps in pain, wrenching his eyes shut, and his hands pull away instinctively.

_Oh no._

The world rushes by in a blur and he knows the pain is coming. It goes by fast, yet slow, almost suspended. Feebly, his hand reaches out to the light that seems to mock him now. How high did he climb? He’ll survive this fall, won’t he? It’ll certainly hurt since he’s landing on a cave floor, but surely he can try again, and again, again until—

The impact is not what he expects.

Mainly because it isn’t an impact at all.

He is caught by a pair of scaly, almost impossibly warm arms.

“You really must be a special breed of fool, hm? Though I hadn’t expected you to attempt to scale the wall having seen how meek you are, and yet here you are. I suppose that is worthy of credit.” 

An arrogant voice invades his ears, and he catches a glimpse of those horrid serpentine eyes.

And then... perhaps it’s the sudden onset of adrenaline and terror, or perhaps he really is a fool, but Adonis then begins trashing his body and flails his arms in order to get out of her grip. If he— If he can be released then he can run and maybe, _maybe_ he’ll miraculously be able to outrun her—

“Ah—gah!?”

With a thud he hits the ground, but it is not because of his thrashing, oh no— Freyja very much intentionally dropped him on his back and now she’s on top of him, baring her teeth in a terrifying snarl.

And she is so, _so_ strong. The hand on his throat is all he needs to know that any resistance is entirely futile and yet it doesn’t stop him from kicking his legs and thrashing his arms. His limbs are simply moving on their own. Adonis feels as though he is disconnected from everything except for the ever present sound of his drumming heart that has become a permanent noise echoing within his eardrums ever since he was tied to that wooden pole.

Not that his meager protests does much work, except irritate his back as he wiggles on the stone floor, and a weight soon settles on top of him that knocks the wind right out of him. Another hand pins his wrists pinned above his head with a bruising force, and the grip remains on his collared throat. A thin layer of sweat glistens on his quivering body.

Adonis stops breathing when he meets Freyja’s ominous golden gaze and… and—

Why does everything feel so _warm?_

A quick, terse flick of his eyes downwards reveals that— that the beast’s… bare… naked… v-v-vag— … _her nether regions_ are sitting directly on top of his groin and that becomes a much more horrifying realization than everything else happening. _Horribly improper,_ a voice rings out in his mind, the sound of his birth father that makes Adonis contort his face into a tight grimace.

The noise of Freyja taking in a deep breath forcibly brings him back to the present, like a bucket of ice cold water being dropped on him. He watches her flare her nostrils as she makes a show of taking in the scent around her, sighing in the process. Is she… is she smelling him…? Her lips curl up to reveal her pink gums and impossibly sharp teeth again, and then lets out a low rumbling growl. Adonis already knows his fate, and he finds himself breathing erratically again, and in seconds his throat will be ripped out, his flesh consumed, blood staining the stone of the cave floor. Without even thinking of the implications, he cranes his neck back to bare his collared throat, accepting his fate.

Except…

Except being torn to shreds doesn’t happen. _Again._

Instead, her voice coos at him, and her enjoyment of what’s happening is very much apparent in her voice. 

“Well, well, _well._ Eager to be deflowered already? Such an obscene little thing you are.”

It takes him a moment to realize her meaning, and when he does, his expression blanches when he feels the blood rushing down _there._ It’s a feeling he’s… _partially_ familiar with, because the male body is an indecent, lewd thing that sometimes just moves on its own. Growing up, he steadfastly did everything he could to avoid his member becoming stiff, never touching himself or imagining improper thoughts.

B-But the adrenaline, the nude womanly body on top of him pinning him down, the overwhelming _heat—_

His body is such a traitorous thing—!! 

A throaty chuckle can be heard above him, and before he can even think about the tears he’s beginning to shed due the sheer embarrassment from having an erection, his body is lifted like a ragdoll and then he’s roughly flipped on his stomach. He grunts, attempting to lift himself up, but now a hand is on the back of his neck that keeps him prone on the floor. The new friction assaulting his cock now borders on painful, and when Freyja’s breath ghosts his ear he whimpers.

“Such an absurd hope and desperation that flutters within you. Rationality should have told you that scaling the wall would have never worked, but fear drives humans to do a great many irrational things, hmm? That is to say, I thoroughly enjoyed your pitiful attempt.”  
  


Her body weight shifts on top of him, and he feels a wetness damp his cheek. Something separate from his tears and when he realizes it’s her _tongue_ touching him he feels goosebumps assail his skin. He desperately tries to ignore her hard nipples pressing against his back, but to no avail.

“Mhm,” she hums, as if deep in thought and speaking to herself, “So sweet. My finest wines scarcely taste more exquisite than the tears of a virgin.”

Her tongue leaves him and Adonis shivers, feeling her weight shift again and grip keeping him pinned lessens considerably. 

“Your attempt was a truly magnificent comedy! As I mentioned, I enjoyed it so thoroughly that I did not feel the need to stop you— the view was especially appreciated. Let this be my thanks for entertaining me so. Do accept it with grace, princeling.”

Adonis is not given a single second for her words to fester in his mind as the next thing he feels is the sharp, sudden _sting_ that hits his buttocks. That yelp that escapes him is entirely undignified, though that doesn’t hold a candle to how he feels his own cock twitch and he clenches his fists together in a white knuckle grip.

_Such… embarrassment…! S-So improper…!!_

The clap from her hand making impact with his cheeks continues to reverberate in his skull like a mocking laugh. It would have been mercy if she just burnt him to death instead. His entire body quivers, mind becoming a distant haze as he struggles to focus on a single thought.

“Ngh… ah!”

Once more, his body is lifted like he weighs nothing. The world becomes a blur as he’s propped over Freyja’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He considers kicking his legs again, but the continuing pain on his buttocks prevents him from doing so. He’s not quite sure if he’d survive another condescending spank and not simply die then and there. Like with how their first… meeting just hours prior, Adonis’ mind is unhelpfully blank and unfocused, and there is no coherence to be had. He can’t think, or speak. So he just wrenches his eyes shut to avoid looking at the beast's nude form.

His cock is still hard. _Aching,_ even.

“I had been preparing the hot springs for a later time, but seeing how our little scuffle has dirtied your body, I believe it sensible to use it now. My, you’ve only just got here and you’ve already made a mess of yourself, _heh.”_

When he feels a hand slither up the back of his thigh and then lightly pinching one of his asscheeks he lets out a trembling exhale, and his breath hitches.

_So improper,_ his father’s disappointed voice repeats in the confines of his ears. He should be disgusted. He thinks he _is_ disgusted, and yet, his eyes remain shut and his mind remains blissfully blank of any real thoughts.

And his body remains warm.

* * *

Eyes that glimmer as the flames she breathes, scales stronger than any armour, and claws sharper than any razor. Freyja _knows_ she is the most powerful dragon this side of the continent, and has proven as much— she can still taste the coppery blood of the other dragons she’s fought with over the years. Some battles last several days, but they always, _always_ end with her being victorious and further broadening her territory. 

And with territorial disputes comes mates.

Courtship generally involves a plethora of biting, scratching and pinning the much, much smaller male dragons beneath her. She’s never had a brood, nor does she intend to ever start _properly_ mating, but reaping the benefits of having a vast territory belong to her never gets tiring. The males simply cannot resist their biology— they _have_ to submit to her, and many fly across the ocean to be honoured with the privilege.

Her own species never fails to give her an entertaining romp in the middle of a field. That being said, she soon felt the need to… expand her mating pool. Afterall, this land is _hers,_ and hers alone. There are other inhabitants that she so gracefully allows to live here, but naturally she requires tribute for her to _continue_ allowing them to live on her territory! She had begun with the elves, and they submitted like a charm— she is rightfully part of their pantheon now, and they shower her with their undulating praise and prayers. 

And of course, their precious sons. What makes them stand out is that they're more than happy to get in bed with her, never missing the chance to extol their endless gratitude and cry out their love for her. She fondly remembers the declaration she had made when she first descended upon her first elven city.

_“Raise your heads to the sky, those who crawl on the ground! The splendor of the heavens you see is I!”_

She thinks that out of the countless subraces of elves that the drow are her favourite. It’s rare that she comes across one of them, but their men can always withstand _so_ much before she is done with them.

Then there were the orcs, who to this day have always given her the most trouble because they can actually defend themselves against her, but only for a few days at best. Big and burly but still endlessly enticing when they writhe beneath her. She doesn’t interact with their type much either, seeing how they’re nomadic and seemingly being very careful about not entering her oh so humble abode now.

And then there’s the humans… Perhaps it’s their tenacity, or outright stupidity, but she finds she enjoys them the most. Always finding new ways to surprise her, and _always_ smelling the most pleasing when they’re afraid. It’s the sweetest of scents, something akin to citrus, while elves usually smell like chestnuts and orcs have a distinct odour of a day old carcass when they’re frightened. Maybe it’s because they’re the species she has a tendency to torment the most, or because of their sweet scents, or because she finds they have the most entertaining of reactions to the things she does; but humans really are her favourite.

Adonis’ current expression is especially… _charming._ The brief moment of how his eyes widened and brows raised in bewilderment when he first caught sight of the bath. At first he seemed struck by the imposing columns all around the rectangular pool. Each column is linked to the next by a perfect archway and the curved ceiling is inlaid with gold. The water itself is as blue as glacier run-off and recently warmed by her flames. Now, he sits in the water, staring at it as if it held all the secrets in the world.

“My worshippers created this for me,” Freyja says with a smirk as she relaxes on the steps leading into the bath, her feet lazily swaying in the water, “The elves of the North have the most talented architects, I find. It is only natural that I gather the greatest minds to create the appropriate vaults for my treasuries. I had them killed so that they would never be able to recreate the design.”

It’s a jest. In fact, Freyja privately considers trivial replicas to be compliments to her, though Adonis’ subsequent look of uneasiness had made it irresistible to make such a quip. And the way he hunches himself to shield himself— is it modesty or fear? Perhaps both? Embarrassment from being rewarded with one little spank? Does he still have an erection? Regardless, it makes her clench her thighs together. His eyes flick to one of the pillars to her, before returning to the pillar. She senses a question is on his mind, but unlike when they first met he does not voice it.

But she answers for him, anyway.

“I have many, many dwellings such as this one. Every one of them houses humanity's most ancient treasures… The deepest depths of your kind’s knowledge. All things I have procured over my countless conquests and travels. My treasuries are truly limitless! Perhaps there will come a day you will understand the magnitude of it.”

His eyes return to her form, and though the underlying apprehension endures she sees something else.

Curiosity, though he quickly attempts to hide it by looking away once more.

There is a low rumbling that forms deep in her chest as she chortles lightly. _Oh,_ does she like that look.

She’ll entertain that very curiosity later, but for now there is a more pressing concern.

Freyja snaps her finger to grab his attention, needing to stop herself from barking out a laugh when his back immediately becomes ramrod straight in attention. She beckons him to come closer, and he stiffly obliges, sliding towards her. She brings her voice low, almost to a whisper.

“It would be terribly boring if you insist on remaining quiet. Remember what I had said about entertaining me?”

He’s thoroughly amused her and then some, but she finds time and time again she cannot help but _tease_ the little princeling with threats of getting eaten. It may very well become her favourite pastime.

Pinching his brows together for only a moment before his mouth opens once, but no sensible response comes out of his quivering lips as he appears to have some sort of debate within his mind. He closes it, then opens it again when apparently latching onto something worth voicing.

“I-I’m…” he squeaks, “I’m sorry…?”

What need does Freyja have for the likes of a theatre or jester when this man doesn’t even need to _try_ to entertain her! She lets out a throaty, delighted laugh, watching his cheeks redden—though she does not miss how his eyes quickly yet almost imperceptibly flick to her chest. _Naughty,_ and ah, there’s another internal debate occurring in his pretty little head again.

His bout of muteness apparently rectified, it is time for the next on Freyja’s itinerary. 

She crosses her legs, lifting one of her feet out of the steamy water. 

“You are my pet, and therefore you have certain duties to perform. These include cleaning my treasury. Perhaps preparing some of my meals. And to…” She pauses, flexing her toes and flashes her teeth in a smile, “cosset me.”

She raises a brow when he gives her a quick look of confusion, but with her foot in the air and directly in front of him, she knows he is not dull enough to not gather her meaning. He purses his lips into a thin line, bringing his hands out of the water and his blush becoming all the more fierce, Adonis begins massaging her foot.

Or at least he attempts to.

His inexperience is fairly evident with how he sloppily massages her ankles. He squeezes too quickly and at inopportune moments, and not really doing anything to actually rub her foot. Not that she expected him to be good at this— half the reason she commanded him to do this in the first place is because it assiduously delights her to watch him fumble around. Especially since he is both nude and wet, as well as being very obvious that he’s staring intently at her foot because he doesn’t want his eyes to _wander._

But she _does_ expect him to actually be good at this in due time.

“Knead my foot, do not squeeze it.”

He nods jerkily. “S-Sorry.”

She narrows her eyes, almost blithely, and the tip of her tail thumps against the floor.

“You will not attempt to escape again.” It is said as a passing observation. A mere statement of _fact,_ because she will make sure it is just so. A first attempt is an amusing farce, but a second is an insult to her. “Once we are finished bathing we shall rest for the evening, and tomorrow I will show you where your food is stocked.”

He nods again, “...I understand,” is his soft reply.

They sit in silence, with Freyja watching his every movement. His hands are always punctuated with a slow hesitance, but it is careful, and she’d like to think it’s borderline _reverence._ And it’s so very, _very_ interesting how that as he continues massaging— it never goes beyond being amateurish,— with his eyes trained on her calves, she can hear his heart slow to a steady, calm rhythm.

Interesting indeed.

* * *

Adonis remembers sitting in one of the rooms in the palace towers, watching his younger sister in the courtyard practicing her sword techniques. She was… about twelve. Or thirteen, and he was eighteen in this memory. Loathe as he is to admit it, Adonis doesn’t really consider himself very close with his sibling, but that’s because girls and boys are raised almost entirely separately. He _did_ at least think they had a nice enough rapport that she’d come to defense when he was set up as tribute, but apparently not. 

Maybe he doesn’t really know his sister after all, because while girls get sent off to school in foreign lands and see the world, boys stay home.

A carriage rolled up beside her, and with some servants alongside her, then his sister hopped in to go to some illustrious school he doesn’t know the name of, and they’d never really see each other again. There’d be the occasional letter, but that was that.

So while she practiced swinging her sword and went off to school, Adonis and his brothers sat in a room while being lectured by their father. Their consort father, more specifically, the only one that was married to mother which therefore made him the most important member of the harem. The others, when they were still around before his sister was born, were called ‘concubine fathers’ if he didn’t just refer to them by name.

Perhaps it is strange to give ranks to a group of men he collectively known as ‘father,’ but that was just the way things were. And still are.

“All men are harlots. They are naturally promiscuous and instruments of impropriety,” his father preached, as he was oft to do at least an hour a day. These little sermons Adonis and his brothers were subjected to generally involved the same topic, something that has since become so ingrained in his being.

“But a fervent, matrimonial love from your wife will keep you away from filthiness and keep you chaste. And _she_ will…” Father’s teeth clenched as his fists tightened on his lap, “Your love for her will then keep her away from temptations from other harlots.”

Father traced his hand over his old, fraying collar. His face had become gaunt over the years, and his eyes always had a tinge of… scorn in them. Especially whenever he looked at Adonis.

“Anything else would be… improper.” Father said stiffly, eyes trained on Adonis. The prince squirmed where he said. Whenever he got to this part of the daily sermon he was always looked at like _that._ Those words were directed at him. He knows that.

And he knew why father held such contempt for him.

Ah, if only he had been born a girl.

* * *

Adonis’ eyes slowly blink open, glazed over with the remnants of his dream. He rubs his face with the inside of his palms, and then the… warmth that hits him reminds him of where he is.

He lays in the palm of Freyja’s… hands? Or would it be more accurate to say claws now that she’s in her bestial form? Regardless, he lays in her palm, and her claws surround him like a cage. He sighs through his nose, listening to the steady thrumming coming from Freyja’s jaws and nostrils, and he can see the occasional wisp of smoke come from her. She is deep in slumber, and that gives him a momentary sense of… respite, somewhat.

_She’s so warm,_ he absently thinks. Is it because she can breathe fire? Do warm blooded reptilians exist? He can certainly understand why she’s so keen to be a nudist if this is her usual body heat. Hell, despite his own lack of clothing he doesn’t think he’s actually once felt cold here. What even are dragons if they have… b-breasts…? 

Adonis pinches his thigh to stir him away from such thoughts. He really should just stop questioning his current predicament. It would really be more productive focus on this stupid thong that’s currently making sitting down a bit of a pain in the— ahem. He diverts his attention elsewhere by looking around himself.

Coiled around them is her massive tail, and peeking from between her sharp nails he gets another look at the gigantic pile of countless treasures the two of them are perched upon. There’s not much light in this part of the cave—apparently there’s a chandelier above them but the candles have been snuffed out so he can’t see it now—but he can see some paintings on the wall, too. Some of which are drawn in styles he’s never seen. Definitely something foreign.

He’d be lying if he weren’t just the _least_ bit curious about where these things come from, but such thoughts will lead him nowhere.

And Freyja apparently seems intent on not eating him, and from what he could gather being her ‘pet’ basically entails being a glorified butler.

Adonis can feel a familiar heat begin to form on his cheeks. Everything here really is just one more mortification after another— constantly being subject to humiliation at the whim of a dragon. A dragon who he’s only ever heard of being the scourge of humanity, which is exactly what she _is!_ What is her body count? In the thousands? _Millions?_ And that’s not even taking into account how she’s made it clear she wishes to de-de-deflower him!

And yet… all that’s occurred is him being given a new wardrobe he could do without and him being debased to massage her feet.

_And… a-and a spank…_

He’s just going to try his best to forget such a thing occurred.

With the thought of her feet in his hands resurfacing in his mind, he feels a strange tingle sensation flow through his body. It’s not something he’s familiar with, and because of that, he quickly feels disgusted with himself. Ever since she proclaimed that she isn’t going to kill him he’s been confused about just… well, everything. Nothing makes sense. Except for the constant embarrassment that leaves him a perpetual state of torment.

And something _else_ stirs within him, but he keeps that buried and ignores it.

Lips beginning to quiver, he pinches the bridge of his nose and tightly shuts his eyes. _A truly magnificent comedy,_ she said. Perhaps he really is an actor in an absurd play without even realizing it, a toy— a pet— here just to entertain. If it wasn’t Freyja, it probably would have been whatever woman would have become his wife.

Sighing again, his mind drifts to staring out his tower window. It was an especially common occurrence in his youth. If he weren’t staring down at the women in the courtyard his eyes just… wandered. He’d stare at the blankets of snow embedded across the land during winter; he thought it was beautiful. Beautiful because when he looked at the sky and saw the purity of the untouched clouds, he saw it as… an escape? A new beginning? Just something else that he didn’t have?

He dreamt of the snow as being soft and warm. When he touched the window with the tip of his wandering hands he found that it was actually cold. It was a realization that struck him as… despairing. No longer was the window a glimpse of something new, it became something despised. A window was there to keep him in place. It was cruel to let him see things but never experience it, he thought.

Freyja’s claws are simply his new tower. Perhaps it would be wise to accept it as it is.

Except this time, in this new tower, he can't even see the clouds.

* * *

Adonis isn’t sure what he expected from a pantry that’s owned by a dragon, but he didn’t think she would have a bevy of pastries, pastas and a whole slew of delectable looking exotic foods he’s only ever heard of from his mother and occasionally his sister.

“Treats and delicacies the elves like to leave at shrines dedicated to me,” Freyja says beside him, her nostrils flare for a moment when she breathes in some of the scent before making a face he can only describe as unimpressed. “I have no desire to indulge in anything other than raw meat. Thus, these will be meals from here on out.” From the corner of his eyes, he sees the corner of her lips twitch. 

“Do accept it with grace, princeling.”

Despite himself, Adonis’ shoulders tense and his… _lower_ cheeks clench when she says, and he half expects another spank because she really does seem she would be that type of reprobate. The low, rumbling laugh that invades his ear drums tells him she probably said that to get that exact reaction out of him. He never really considered himself unpredictable or difficult to read but _wow…_ And why are goosebumps forming on his skin now?

He does not cease his clenching when Freyja comes closer, _too_ close, because then she presses her body against his body. His back straightens as he attempts to keep his gaze steadfastly on a painting of a blood red dragon perched upon the bodies of a heap of other dragons. It’s difficult to focus, since her height means her… breasts are a little… close to his face.

His eye twitches when his treacherous cock begins to stir, and out of instinct he covers his groin with his hands.

Freyja’s continued chortling confirms his thoughts of him being an actor in a comedy.

“The dish there is called Theoluma, from the seafaring high elves of Diocemia. It consists of various marine animals chopped and melded into a heavily viscous brown paste in their own fermented viscera. A traditional appetizer, it is often paired with whiskey, but for now I suppose this and some duck steamed buns shall make an adequate breakfast.”

She— She’s talking about damn food yet her voice is like a sultry whisper with her breath tickling the top of his head. The mirth in her tone is palpable and he has to make a concentrated effort to resist the urge to outright squirm where he stands. It’s clear she expects him to eat with strong smelling seafood, and immediately he begins to worry about what she could have done with it if she wants him to specifically consume this dish.

Adonis takes a step forward, inwardly thankful to get away from her thoroughly distracting body, and quickly takes a golden spoon to scoop up some of the Theoluma off its golden plate,— what _isn’t_ bathed in gold?— and lifts his face veil to take a quick bite. His bangles and other jewelry draped on his forearm ride down and rests halfway between his knuckles and his wrist, clinking as they shift. He doesn’t expect the food to be poisoned, but he is sure there has to be a ploy at play.

He doesn’t quite gag, though he does make a noise like he’s clearing his throat when he chews. It’s… certainly has a strong taste that almost overwhelms him— sickening yet enticing? But also tasting pleasantly of the ocean at the same time? Something to that effect. He thinks he tastes cuttlefish and crab. It’s slippery on his tongue and it goes down his throat with any issue when he swallows. He can certainly see why this is usually paired with alcohol and not served as a breakfast.

But if Freyja’s done something with the dish, when will it take effect? Glancing to his side, he sees her staring at him, almost intently, like _she’s_ waiting for something to take effect too. Her eyes narrow and this time, he _does_ squirm under her judicial eye.

She clicks her tongue.

“Hmph. How boring. The Diocemian elves have sung endless praise for this dish and yet you ate it with nothing but nonchalance. You aren’t even that surprised. I was hoping for you to be stunned by this supposed exquisite taste and take a hasty step back, falling to the ground…”

Her voice tapers to a disappointed huff as she pokes at the offending dish with her finger.

_Wha—_

_What?!_

That’s _it?!_ She— She— She just wanted to see his reaction? For him to, what, be amazed?! No, that can’t be it! There has to be an ulterior motive! An ulterior motive that’ll make her embarrass him again, maybe even spank him again for goddess knows why—

_Why did I think of that again…?_

He hears Freyja make a noise, and with a flick of his eyes he sees her raise a brow with a lopsided smirk.

“Oho? Your heartbeat has increased. So you _are_ amazed by the delicacy. As you should be.”

Adonis does the most awkward throat clearing he’s ever done in his life, all the while cursing both his heart and cock.

“...It certainly is an acquired taste.” He murmurs, “Perhaps it would taste better if I ate it as the appetizer it’s meant to be rather than a breakfast.”

Before he can even begin to think about panicking over such a brazen response, Freyja’s smirk grows wider, and she flicks her wrist. 

“Aha! Eager to imbibe in alcohol? Perhaps we have something in common. Hmm, yes, we shall enjoy some whiskey later tonight. I look forward to seeing you become loose under the effects of the intoxicating liquor, heh.”

This is absurd, isn’t it? The sheer casualness of it all keeps him on edge. He’s never even had alcohol before and yet he’s apparently going to have some get dropped on his lap tonight like it’s— it’s so simple! To just be given _things_ he’s never had before. One moment he’s being pinned to the ground, the next he’s bathing, then he’s sleeping in the palm of a dragon and now if he weren’t wearing this loincloth he’d feel _slightly_ like a prince again! What makes Adonis’ head spin are the transitions, the juxtaposition of her arrogance and how she might actually be… soft with him at moments? He is still very much terrified of her, but there is something else beneath that surface.

His suspicions of something nefarious about to happen does not abate as he stiffly continues to eat the food. His eyes wander aimlessly at some of the other dishes, and when his gaze lands on a pile of cookies he feels Freyja’s hand on his shoulder— deceptively soft yet it causes him to still shiver— and she juts her chin forward.

“The wood elves are capable bakers. These shortbread cookies are soaked in sweetened milk once they are baked, and inside is the tree sap of the Kafar tree. They say it helps rejuvenate one’s soul. Not that I require such a thing.”

Adonis blinks, eyes now landing on a meat dish.

“Marinated five spice fried pork! Mundane as they are, the half-elves make the finest meats— their tributes are the only ones I find worthy of gracing my tongue on rare occasions.”

He tries not to frown— no doubt she would make a comment about that and he’d immediately feel cornered— but he thinks he knows the reason for this entire charade. This is her mocking him. It _has_ to be. She knows full well this cave is his new tower. This food… this _buffet_ … it’s like the snow. Something he can indulge in to a degree, yes, but at the same time something that reminds him what is out of his reach.

He’ll never visit the places these dishes originate from. They will forever be out of their reach, much like the clouds and snow in the sky.

The food begins to taste bitter in his mouth, and Freyja continues to speak, her voice booming.

“Ah, but you must have a proper look at my treasury, as you will be tasked to clean it! Rejoice, for I shall show some of my most prized accessories. You'd do well to look at them closely, pet.”

...This beast is truly more cruel than he had originally thought. To not only dangle these exotic dishes in front of him but to now show him these ancient and foreign treasures?

He thinks he would prefer to be humiliated instead.

* * *

Mortification and bashfulness are expressions that Freyja looks upon quite affectionately. When she’s feeling bold enough she’d go as far as to claim that she even covets the moments she gets to see such a look grace someone’s visage. Perhaps it is because she is unceasingly the cause of those very expressions appearing. _She_ is the reason one is either afraid or shy, or both, and she wouldn’t have had any other way. To command someone’s feelings at such a whim is a _power_ that makes her heart sing.

Though those are not the only emotions she enjoys forcing out of someone she deems fortunate enough to have grabbed her attention.

To have someone amazed because of her goes without question. As her radiance exceeds even that of the sun, she relishes in bestowing upon the masses the honour of witnessing it. _Feast your eyes upon me!_ She roars in her mind, _Be amazed by my unlimited power— my treasury!!_

They stand within a chamber they slept in, but she knows he did not receive the opportunity to give it the proper look of reverence it warrants. Now this the chandeliers and torches properly lit, she keeps her almost hungry gaze on Adonis’ form, awaiting for him to no doubt become enamored by the glorious sight before him.

After all, a mere look of amazement is greater flattery than endless adulation ever could be. It is… she can’t quite put it in words… but it simply _is!_

His eyes roam around the room, his features more akin to curiosity than anything else, but then his eyes widen and she smells a brief spike of fear— oh, such a lovely scent she’ll never tire of!

Her pet remains guarded with both his voice and body, but perhaps he remembers how terribly boring she finds it when he is silent, so he wisely decides to speak what is on his mind.

“A-Are… these bones…?”

She throws her head back with a bark of laughter. “Ahaha! Yes! Drow architecture is quite the sight, so it is only natural that I have my worshippers design me a symbolic offering showing how I am the merchant of death. Is it not appropriate that I have my slumber within an ossuary? To have the remains of my enemies beautify my walls?”

Skeletal remains— mostly other dragons she had killed due to vicious territorial disputes over the centuries— adorns not only the walls, but also the floor, ceiling and foundation. Garlands of skulls are draped across the stone, and in the center of the ceiling is an enormous chandelier of bones containing at least one of every bone in a dragon’s body. Freyja nods at it.

“The chandelier above is made of the bodies of at least three Viperfangs. They’re terribly skilled dragons when it comes to lurking in the shadows.” Seeing this as too irresistible a moment, she steps toward him, leaning forward and catching the nape of his neck between her teeth as she pushes some necklaces aside, just below his collar. Not too hard, of course, because otherwise he would be dead within seconds. Her canines ghost his skin, “Lest the snap of a branch betray them, you’d never know they were there until their teeth sinks into you.” She purrs slowly.

She feels the goosebumps form on his skin, and she can feel his pulse vibrate against her teeth. His body stiffens as she keeps her mouth there, practically going limp as if she had sunk her canines down to kill him. And _ah,_ does that stoke a slowly growing fire in her lower stomach.

He’s delightful. Cute, even. Certainly lovely.

But there is not a look of amazement on his expression. _Hmph._ That simply will not do.

Freyja steps away from him, sauntering towards her treasure pile to reach over and grab a series of jewelry in overly bright and exuberant colours— reminiscent of beadings— and holds it out to him.

“Tidraline Coral, harvested off the reefs of Diocemia. These can only grow on the bones of a dragon. This particular colony grew upon an ancient dragon that far preceded myself— she, too, ruled these lands much like myself.”

She watches his eyes widen with something akin to impish glee, and he opens his lips part in a small ‘o’ shape.

_Yes, be astonished!! Show me that face becoming awashed with awe!!_

“Ancient dragon… You mean Pherenike? Pherenike The Formidable?” He says, stunned— appropriately so!— “They… They say she was the progenitor of all dragons…”

Aha, so he is knowledgeable on some things, perhaps not fully _entirely_ sheltered when it comes to the going ons in the world. Freyja nods curtly, taking a seat on a chair that is carved of a fine oak, crested with several jewels and decorative metals forming an elegant coat of arms. It was once a throne belonging to a long dynasty of human rulers she had ended. She looks down at him with a smirk.

“Indeed. Naturally I follow in the All Mother’s footsteps. I have put it upon myself to take her title as goddess of death and war,” Her eyes narrow in delight when she smells the telltale scent of fear, though it’s faint this time and Adonis does not externally show that he is afraid. No doubt even he is unaware of his own anxiety, “Except, I desire to be the _only_ goddess. The elves worship all dragons and I descended upon them to rectify such an insult.”

She tilts her head, smirk widening, “And of course I expanded my devoted audience. I suppose you humans need more fire and brimstone. I’ve yet to have shrines and temples dedicated to myself, only virginal sons given to me as tribute.”

Reaching over the throne, Freyja casually picks up a series of tomes.

“Human legend says this is a tablet written in arcane glyphs that grants the ability to summon rain at will to whomever can find and decipher it. I have no need for such a spell, so it is merely scribbles in my eyes, but a treasure is treasure, and therefore it belongs only to me.” She unceremoniously throws it over her shoulder, not missing how Adonis blinks in quick succession at the action, “On the topic of your kind’s treasures, I have a library in another treasury. It contains all knowledge that has and will likely exist for your ilk. You will be permitted to spend some time there.”

She focuses on the skip in his heartbeat that rattles in his ribcage. There is a twitch in his expression, and Freyja doesn’t need to be able to smell and hear the changes in his body to know that there is a curiosity within he wishes to satiate. She waits for him to voice that very curiosity, but he doesn't. Instead, he opts to clear his throat awkwardly, certainly an endearing enough action regardless, and asks about a slightly different topic.

“...Seems like the elves love you,” he murmurs, eyes slowly roaming across more of the treasure, “And you’ve been… everywhere?”

“Not quite,” That seems to pique his interest, as his eyes widen, “The world has a great many places and a great many treasures. I will never be able to see them all within my lifetime. And that, quite simply, is how I prefer it.”

His expression pinches into one of incredulity. 

“There are places you’ve never been?”

“Hah! You are not the first human to ask me such a thing. I am beginning to see a pattern. Your kind seems to greatly underestimate the size of the land we inhabit. And it is with the size of the world that makes collecting my riches and taking from other dragon’s hoards all the more satisfying.” She gestures towards him with a finger, “Tell me, pet, why would you create your own treasury?”

Clearly surprised by being put on the spot, Adonis shifts where he stands nervously.

“U-Uh… Well, like with you I-I suppose it would be related to conquering… So, I would have a treasury to show off my power?” There is a twinge of sarcasm in his voice near the end, clearly mostly directed at himself. After all, a man being a conqueror is utterly absurd, but she will allow him to envisage such an impossible fantasy for the moment.

“Oh, that is certainly part of it,” Freyja assents with a chuckle, “Gathering treasure is in a dragon’s instinct, it is something akin to breathing. I find the greatest pleasure is from enriching one’s life. Seeing and experiencing new things. It is, in a word, a thrill. Surely you understand the joy of seeing something new and unknown? To go forth and enrich one’s life with unfamiliar lands and riches… Does your kind not call that the meaning of life?”

As she expected, his heart begins to leap, but frustratingly enough his face does not flicker with the admiration she desires. How could he not yet fully understand the significance of the room he stands in? He stands before riches he has surely never seen before! There should be uncontrollable excitement flowing through his veins!

“Pleasure in new things…” he mutters, looking down sullenly, and it is decidedly a reaction she finds wholly unsatisfying.

“Such a paltry murmur. I would feel insulted if I did not currently consider you my greatest tribute.”

At the word ‘insult’ he stiffens his shoulders and quickly looks back at her, and then at the words ‘greatest tribute’ his face is drowned in the colour red as a blush overtakes his features.

“Whuh… Greatest tribute…?”

She will accept his stunned response over amazement for now. “Tomes, goblets, thrones, gems and jewels… All things I enjoy indulging in and taking for myself. When they are items I have never seen before I feel fulfilled, but they are objects I will eventually lose interest in once I come across a new treasure.” She narrows her eyes, _“You,_ however, are alive, and therefore endlessly more entertaining. As I have stated before, I have never taken a man like this. You are… unique in this sense, and thus I consider you the most valuable item in my treasury.”

Admittedly… his lack of wonderment thus far is… interesting in of itself. She wouldn’t call it entertaining but there is an idle curiosity beginning to stir within her. Perhaps she had grown too used to certain emotions from her subjects, and perhaps she should then crave his unexpected responses.

It’s different. Not something she had seen before.

And that, of course, can be thrilling.

The thought of her continuing to show him her treasures to actively search for awe in his eyes is certainly an idea. She begins to wonder how long it would take for him to finally give her the appropriate reaction. Almost like a _challenge._

Oh, now she realizes that is even a bit _exciting._

Her lips curl in an appreciative smile at the thought, and her pet swallows thickly, and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. His eyes shift to and fro, apparently now unable to look her in the eye. She leans back in her seat and listens to his heart proceed to skip _several_ beats. How very fascinating. Almost as interesting as when he became calm when they bathed.

Truly, her decision to have him as tribute was the correct one! The _months_ she had spent watching him layabout in that little tower of his was time well spent!

“I so do enjoy admiring my collection… And I do believe I should strive to give you extra… _attention.”_ His face only continues to redden, and she blithely wonders if the heat radiating from his face would rival her own flames. “After all, my greatest treasure may be appropriately admired! You dance, so you must certainly be flexible. Go on then, show me what your body can do.”

He fumbles for a moment, blinking in quick succession as her words slowly take root in that sheepish mind of his. He bends his knees for a split-second before deciding against it, then he hesitantly reaches over to grab a velvet rid pillow with golden fringes, but not before gazing at her with imploring eyes.

Truly the most endearing treasure she has in her care. Freyja nods, allowing him permission to use it. What happens next are a series of stretching that she supposes she should have expected— they’re so very _mundane._

The first thing he does is kneel on one foot— certainly an enticing image in and of itself— and he places his body weight on his knee. He keeps his heel on the pillow and leans forward. After doing that for a few seconds on both legs he lies face down, and brings his hands close to his shoulders. Adonis keeps his hips on the ground, looks forward and rises up by straightening his arms. Then he slowly bends one arm and rotates the shoulder towards the ground. A hip and stomach stretch, obviously it has its merits and something he does regularly, but not very entertaining to watch.

Again with him defying her expectations. Or maybe he is simply that clueless. Hmm.

“How long have you been dancing?” She idly questions, beginning to appraise her nails when he stands with one foot perched on a table nearby, he keeps his leg bent as he leans his chest into the bent knee.

His voice falters, at first beginning with a murmur but slowly beginning to make his voice louder, “Ah, for as long as I can remember… I was also expected to play an instrument but, um… I’ve never been very musically inclined.”

Freyja raises a brow, and her silent question is not missed by him.

“...Never was able to get the hang of anything. Everything I played sounded like a dying animal.” His lips twitch, a tiny smile playing on his features that is both mirthful and humourless at the same time.

At least there is a sense of humour in him somewhere. Ah, what is it that humans like to say...he is coming out of his shell? He continues stretching indifferently and when he’s about to bend over to touch his toes Freyja finds herself suddenly leaning forward, anticipation tingling on her scales.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she tuts, and at his bewildered look she twirls her finger to gesture him to turn around.

And there’s the realization that flickers across his expression. He wets his lips nervously— or dare she say that it looked more like a glimmer of excitement?— and turns around.

He bends down to touch his toes without trouble, so he is indeed reasonably flexible. And, of course, the action causes her to get _quite_ the view of his thong clad ass. Ah, his pale cheeks are like twin moons in the sky.

Freyja snickers behind her hand.

She has half a mind to spank him again, to imprint her mark on his frail flesh. The first time she did he had a handprint on his cheek for the rest of the evening, and it looked so very delectable on him. He exhales a soft, almost imperceptible shaky breath, and she wonders if he’s even aware that he’s clenching again. It would appear this is something of a habit of his.

Standing, he turns around, bending over once again she thinks he’s going to do the same stretch, but instead he grabs the ankle of his left leg. Then, he becomes upright to move his body to a standing-split position. With his ankle now above his head, his wobbles a little as he focuses on his balance. His jewelry clinks, and the chain of his collar dangles to the floor quite enticingly, as if begging her to grab a hold of it.

Now _this_ is a stretch she likes to feast her eyes upon.

Even from beneath his face veil she can see his lips purse together in a bout of… shyness, perhaps? His little modesty act never gets old. His blush now reaches his shoulders, and his eyes even seem a bit glazed over as she can see his nipples harden.

It’s not even cold. Why, oh _why_ would that happen? From behind her hand, her smile grows into something wolfish.

And that’s not even taking into account how his bulge strains against the fabric of his thong. Even small beads of sweat begin forming on his skin. She takes a good, long look at one single trickle of perspiration run from near his crotch and down his thigh.

This man is such a feast! Oh, how she wishes to sink her teeth in his pale flesh, to feel him writhe beneath her, to hear him whimper and moan. To wait— truly is the greatest torture, but to take a man’s virgnity, he must first settle in adequately. Waiting will make the feast taste all the sweeter. The release of it all shall be… delectable.

So… for now… she will watch him.

His heart, while not thunderously hitting against his ribs anymore, beat with a… _different_ sort of 

energy. She can both see it and _hear_ it—

Her pet _enjoys_ being leered at, he just doesn’t know it himself yet.

She makes Adonis stretch for quite some time, her hungry eyes never leaving him, and a wetness gradually forms between her legs. _Soon,_ she thinks, _very soon._

* * *

Adonis never thought it was possible, but he finds a strange sort of… _comfort_ over the course of the next three days. The time passes in a simple enough manner. He eats, with Freyja sometimes making a bit of a show of warming his food with her flames, he dusts around the seemingly endless foray of treasure and generally attempts to organize some things, and he occasionally is tasked with massaging her when they bathe and stretching in front of her. In the deep recesses of his mind he thinks he _might_ be able to get used to this, as ludicrous as it is. Who would get used to wearing this type of outfit, anyway?

Ultimately it’s really not that different from his original life, since he’s still… just stuck as he ever was.

She mentioned a library, but he hasn’t been able to find it, leading him to once again believe her to be mocking him. Like— she’s a dragon. That’s just in their nature, isn’t it? They’re _kind of_ awful.

Her eyes flash in his mind and he shivers, cursing his body the entire time. Why does he need to shiver? What does that _mean?_ Nothing good or proper, surely. This beast’s very presence almost feels like a test of his wills. This must be punishment for not praying more.

And, he’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but he’s becoming more and more certain that Freyja is _very_ eager to tell him about every little thing in her treasury. He’d never dare say this out loud because he wants to live, but it’s the type of excitement that reminds him of a child showing off their art project to a parent. It’s such a crude comparison but it is the only thing he can think of.

Because if he doesn’t think of it like _that,_ another thought swivels its way into his head— this eagerness… it’s strangely relatable, he remembers he’d go out of his way to show his parents his dancing when he was learning new moves. He did that because he wanted approval. To feel… valued.

And because he was lonely. _Lonely._ That can’t possibly be what’s occurring with Freyja. Are dragons even capable of experiencing emotions other than those related to death and destruction? Ugh.

He sighs, focusing harder on his chores to distract himself.

There is a calmness to cleaning the cave, feeling the furniture glide over the stone floor and the soft sound of the broom as it sweeps. There’s a bevy of shelves that he’s managed to prop up properly and begin organizing some of the smaller things, but the vast majority still lays haphazardly in a pile and he doubts he’ll ever be able to fully clean everything in his lifetime. 

Still… he feels lighter and brighter… even if he cleans in possibly the most impractical outfit known to man. Regardless, the consistent movements and rhythm invites deep breaths and for the thoughts to slow as if he had just awoken. It _calms_ him. Not once as a prince did he think he would be demoted to a glorified servant and very, very, _very_ slightly enjoy it. It’s… just the only thing he can do. Of _course_ he finds a tiny, nagging sense of enjoyment out of it. That’s it. That’s _absolutely_ it. Nothing more, nothing less.

He wipes down a golden chalice, Freyja’s voice repeating in his mind.

_“Aha! That is one of the few elegant treasures from the orcs. It is tradition for a war chief to drink the blood of their enemies from this very chalice after war. I once partook in that very tradition when I defeated my first horde. Their blood tastes like piss, this I never defiled my tongue with such a rancid sensation ever again. Hmph.”_

Adonis begins sweeping with a staff encrusted with various emeralds, with stiff fibers tied at one end as he uses it as an impromptu broom.

_“Elven legend says this staff will lead whoever holds it to a cave that holds infinite riches. Thus I have no need for this— I already hold infinite riches, fuahaha!”_  
  


He dusts off an ornately decorated shield that’s bigger than he is, and once it is clean he can see his own reflection. Sometimes Frea uses this thing as a plate when she eats an entire elk.

_“This is paired with a sword, and together they create a sapphire blue lightning, stronger than any meager magic humans or elves could conjure. I have yet to come across the sword— the All Mother hid it during her reign and no one has caught a glimpse of it since. If there will be anyone to find such a treasure, it will be I!!”_

His lips twitch at the accompanying memories. But he is not smiling. Absolutely _not._ He’s not even _thinking_ of smiling. Nope.

He wonders if all dragons are as verbose as she is. At least, he surmises, her desire to give him the backstory of every object in the nearest vicinity provides something of a distraction from his less welcome thoughts. What is his family doing right now—

Adonis’ lips twitch again, but this time downwards.

What a strange world it is that he would rather ruminate over his _captor_ over his own relatives. He heaves a sigh, thinking that at least his purity remains intact for now.

“Hmm. All virtuous men are much like flowers blooming in the wild.”

Blinking, he turns around to see Freyja sauntering towards him, and he utters out a soft “...Eh?” before he can think about what she’s saying.

He sees her teeth peek out from between her lips as she smirks widely, eyes narrowing and… well, it’s not really all that different from how she usually looks at him. It’s predatory and vaguely uncomfortable, intermingled with something else he can’t quite pinpoint. 

This time, he’s definitely feeling a little cornered almost immediately. He takes a tentative step back.

“As with any gardener overlooking her work, I have been taking the time to appreciate looking at you. After all, what is a treasure if it is not admired as the pretty little ornament it is? I have garnered more entertainment merely looking at you than I have with an entire conquest. But it is only natural that the treasure I seek is the greatest your kind has to offer.”

Adonis blinks in quick succession. Out of instinct, he turns his head to the side to avert his sinful gaze, but the sudden rosiness of his cheeks gives him away. Again with being called a _treasure._ It makes him blush, all scarlet with searing heat. That always, _always_ happens. His own private thoughts make him blush, any time a girl looked at him in his youth made him blush, being told to stretch, massage or clean makes him blush. Anything. It isn’t _right._ The growing shame seared through him like a jagged knife. Perhaps mother happily sacrificed him because he is such an unrepentant harlot even as a virgin. He doesn’t do it on purpose— he _swears—_ but being as mentally inferior to women as he is, that's what everyone has taught him so it _must_ be true, his body always reacts in the _dirtiest_ of manners. No wonder people say a man should receive a monthly spanking to keep him in line.

The eyes staring at him make him shiver. Of course they make him shiver. The dragon is eagerly waiting for a reaction, a response, like the predatory beast she is. 

He hears a chortle that makes his heart beat faster than he’d like to admit.

“Your palpitations never cease to ring like music in my ears, pet,” she pauses, and he can hear the smirk in her voice, “Clothing you, bathing you, and feeding you— be it as a feast, a treasure, or a flower in my vast garden, I believe I have cultivated you to be a fine male specimen that would make any woman salivate. I hope your gratitude for my generosity will be immense.”

Big words for a dragon that has kept him imprisoned for three days. He would wrinkle his nose together in a look of distaste… but of course that does not occur. Instead, like a trollop meandering the streets his mind begins to grow a bit hazy, and he dares a glance to Freyja’s direction. It will only be later will he realize that his lips are parted slightly from behind the face veil. 

Freyja’s eyes narrow slightly. There is something different in the way she looks at him now. Still hungry in a sense, but it feels all the more violating. 

“Yes… men such as yourself are much like flowers. As such, they should be taken care of lest you wish for them to wilt.” She inhales heavily, and very quickly she descends further into his personal space faster than he’s able to take a couple of steps back. Soon enough, he feels some treasure beneath his foot, and he slips on it, unceremoniously landing on his ass.

“Once they are fully blooming, there…” she licks her lips, “There comes a time they must be deflowered. Trimmed for the garden. I have kept your purity intact so that an insatiable hunger may grow in me. It makes the bedding all the more _satisfying.”_

That makes his mind snap back to reality.

Wha—

Wait—

Now hold on just a moment—

D-D-Do dragons read minds too?! He had just thought about his purity remaining intact…! What the— Deflowering… that means…!! And s-so suddenly?! Hold on, did he miss something?! She had kept to make herself grow in… such filthy desires, but wait— what’s going to happen _after?!_

Adonis’ face washes blank with confusion, like the cogs in his brain couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information from his wide eyes and ringing ears. There is zero thinking going on in his head. He can't even operate on a level of formulating a full sentence.

He opens his mouth and only one thing comes tumbling out.

“Huh?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Adonis, let go of your puritan mind. Freyja ain't making fun of you when she shows off her treasury, you silly boy.
> 
> Artwork by my lovely sister scheppke 💖💖  
> Do yourself a favour and check out her stuff here! Give her some love!!  
> https://scheppke.tumblr.com/  
> https://twitter.com/scheppke_susie
> 
> Anyway, if you're so inclined, I'd love to hear what you think of the story! I am a simple girl with simple desires, that mainly come in the form of comments. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


	3. Chapter 3

Freyja does enjoy it when a man vainly attempts to resist her. The way their body quivers and writhes, with the occasional flailing arms as they claw their arms on the ground… _Delicious._ No doubt it strokes her natural hunter’s instincts. The resistance never lasts long because, well, she _is_ a dragon, and they no doubt soon begin to realize just how _divine_ it is to be given the privilege to lay with her. They always do.

She makes them realize the joys of indulging in the pleasures of the flesh. 

With Adonis slung over her shoulder, he does not resist as much as her other conquests have, though his heart beats louder than any she has ever heard before. There are hitched breaths and whimpers, and she hopes he might shed a tear or two again for her to imbibe. There is something truly rejuvenating in the tears of a virgin, sweet like honey and twice as delicious. 

Her free hand reaches forward to grope his pale rear end, and she achieves the reaction she was searching for. Her pet’s entire body twitches, cheeks clenching involuntarily beneath her palm, and he lets out a series of a pitiful _‘u-ugh… nggh…’_ His voice croaks with another hitch of his breath, sounding distinctly like a wet hiccup. Aha, someone’s attempting to keep his unshed tears at bay. _Perfect._

She will have him wailing in pure ecstasy.

Her clawed hand remains on his firm asscheek, indenting the flesh and making a chortle slowly make its way through her throat every time he makes a noise or twitches his body. It does not take long for her to reach a chamber in her treasury she lovingly calls the deflowering room. The only thing in the room is a massive, grand bed that belonged to monarchs of a dynasty she no longer cares to remember. At each corner is an elegant and large golden pillar of rain-engraved stone, and connected to each pillar is a thin curtain of ivory with a touch of lace at the edges, stitched together by the finest embroiders of the land. 

Pushing the delicate and dignified draping aside reveals a bed with a thick crimson blanket and golden accents, as well as four pillows made with richly decorative shuttle-woven fabrics. The mattress is silken, thick and irresistibly soft, like a billowing cloud.

Freyja lightly throws her pet onto the bed. He splutters as he lands on his back with a bounce. Chest heaving, his legs are splayed wide open, beads of nervous sweat lightly trailing down his delectable looking thighs. His eyes are unfocused, shaking, and her lips curl upwards in a smirk at how his nipples have already hardened. 

When she joins him on the bed, slowly crawling towards him like a cat stalking its prey in the long grass, her smirk widens as he fruitlessly begins moving backwards. He is stopped when he reaches the pillows at one end of the bed, and soon she is directly above him, both her hands on either side of his head. There’s that ever present blush once more and he quickly averts his gaze downwards— though clearly the sight of her bountiful breasts just above his chest causes him to choke on a breath and he prefixes his gaze quickly sideways. He is unable to keep his lips firmly pressed together, soon opening his mouth in a series of shaky inhales and exhales. 

Listening to the drumming beat of his heart rattling his ribcage, unsteady like an erratic drummer, fills her with a sickly sweet warmth. It floods through Freyja’s blood, almost changing the beat of her own heart. Excess spit begins to swell in her mouth that she swallows down thickly as the excitement of taking the virginity of yet another athletic and pulchritudinous young man.

“I have taken many men on this very bed, pet,” He inhales a sharp intake of air when a single finger runs down his cheek to his chin. Freyja can feel the warmth from his flushed face on her digit and she flashes her teeth, “You needn’t worry, I make certain these sheets are clean after every time I sully it like the virginal men I mount.”

Her hand then begins to greedily explore his muscular chest and stomach, made firm from however long he’s been a dancer. Frail skin so tempting to touch that she gleefully indulges in the treasure that is his body. 

“I have seen your eyes roam me, pet. Surely you must know this is a most convenient opportunity to satiate your fascination.”

His lips quiver beneath his face veil, eyes still trained to some random spot on the wall of the bedchamber. “H-H-How can I not stare when you look like… l-like that…?” His voice is barely a ripple in the air, and yet she can already feel her clit begin to throb with luscious desire.

She throws her head back in a laugh, her hair cascading down her shoulders and falling down on his body like blood. Her eyes narrow in growing excitement, “Oho? So you wish to speak after all? Such appropriate adulation and admiration that I am deserving of, no doubt. But,” her finger begins to playfully move around the jewelry that decorate his shaking body, “I know you are excited. It is only natural that your kind be curious of otherworldly pleasures. I intend to make you fully realize your latent desires, no matter how you may try to hide it.”

With a soft gasp, Adonis bashfully hides his chest with his arms, which in turn makes her let out another chuckle. He whimpers when she takes his wrists and firmly pins his arms to his sides. 

She’s hungry.

So she decides to give the nape of his neck a little nip.

Her smile is sharp like a sickle moon against his skin when he practically yelps. She can feel his arms attempt to resist, but obviously it does nothing against her pinning him down. Freyja does not break his skin with her teeth, though she is more than capable in doing so, but she makes sure to give him a good pinch. 

“A-Ah… mmph…” while he desperately attempts to keep his soft cries at bay, some whimpering manages to escape. Her breasts press against his chest, no doubt causing him further stimulation he is entirely unused to, and when Freyja removes her teeth from his neck only to give him a long, languid lick she is certain his toes begin to curl. His legs do bend and kick, but it is clear he is entirely unsure of what to do with his limbs.

When she is finished licking, she takes a moment to appraise the man beneath her. His face and chest is flushed, clearly embarrassment and pleasure knotted together in fire. He twitches like his body is being assailed by tiny shocks, his eyes wrenched shut. Clearly he doesn’t know what to do with arms anymore either, because when she releases one of them to quickly remove his face veil, he does nothing. Ah, so obedient after a simple nip. How lovely.

Her hand returns to his wrist when she throws the face veil to the side. 

Freyja pushes his body further into the silken sheets when she trails her teeth down his clavicle before taking a nipple into her mouth. His reaction is immediate, Adonis’ body arching like a bow, fists tightly clenched. Oh, he offers his pliant body to her so, _so_ well. Even his jewelry no longer feels cold against her skin.

She sucks on his nub, that has become as hard as a pebble, her teeth pinching him again. Her pet’s virginity becomes further apparent in how he bucks erratically from the stimulation she is gracing him with. His voice becomes high-pitched as his lips are no longer able to keep his wanton noises at bay.

“Ah… n-ngh….!”

Satisfied that he will no longer try something with his hands when he begins to grasp at the sheets, Freyja leans back to appreciate his heaving form once again. She licks her lips in growing delight.

“Sublime,” she says with a throaty growl.

She wants to see him, and only him, grimacing in pain. It really is such a joy to torment men like him. Her fingers flex, gifting him with another bite that this time is on the shoulder. Now with her hands unoccupied, she puts her nails to good use.

“Ngh!” He gasps, “Wha—What are you—”

His voice is cut off with a momentary shriek before he grits his teeth. Her sharp nails— claws, really— indent his fair, unbroken skin. She is as blithesome as a hawk with its prey caught in the clutches of its talons as she begins to pain her canvas in a litany of scratches. It is not enough to scar him, or even break the skin, but it still causes a series of bright red marks that resemble snakes to flare up and decorate his body. 

No defenses. Completely unable to escape her grasp. Sweat lining his body as he attempts to withstand the stinging ache of her scratches and the humiliation of being deflowered in such a manner. Grunts of pain come from between his plump lips, eyes half-lidded.

She is so, _so_ wet.

Freyja can never tire of the sight of a beautiful, handsome man in pain. She wants to make him suffer. To make him wail and cry. She wants to bring to the brink of death like she has with the countless men she had conquered— to make that face contorted in an expression of anguish and euphoria. A mess of snot, tears and spit! 

And it would appear she is not the only one enjoying this so thoroughly, because she feels a familiar hardness poking her.

“Hah! Such bashfulness and yet your body wishes to be violated!” Her grip on his side tightened, this time enough for her nails to sink far enough to make him bleed. But only slightly. While she does enjoy tearing some individuals into ribbons, she has no intentions to end his life. “You may thank me for gifting you with such pleasure with due reverence once we are finished, pet.”

Turning her head, she sees his cock training against the thin fabric of his thong and loincloth, and she feels herself begin to grow increasingly impatient.

Freyja swirls spit in her mouth, bringing a hand forward to spit into her palm in quick succession. Without much else warning, she snakes down to grasp his cock beneath the loincloth. He keens out a series of rushed noises, some sounding suspiciously like expletives

Without warning she firmly grasps his cock. In a deceptively gentle manner she begins to stroke his shaft up and down. He is the warmest she’s ever felt now and she can feel him continue to swell under the ministrations of her palm.

He bucks his hips dramatically

Freyja makes a throaty little noise of pleasure as Adonis harshly bites his lower lip, his tears finally being shed and she doesn’t waste any time and leans down to lick his face. One hand continues stimulating his cock, while the other scratches his side and arm. Lightning flickers along her spine, another storm growing, as she tastes his exquisitely salty tears.

She grins wolfishly when he is unable to stop himself from moaning.

Satisfied with the taste of his tears, Freyja then opts to bite him on the shoulder again, this time hard enough to draw a slither of blood. The coppery taste is delectable, the flavour of excitement and arousal swimming on her tongue. For good measure, her grip on his cock tightens, the brief seconds of painful pressure causing further jolts of stimulation that in turn makes her pet shiver violently and buck his hips again.

“Ugh… nghm.... A-Ah!”

“For a virgin, you certainly know how to be indecent.” She chuckles darkly, nipping him on the chest and scratching his bicep, all the while her stroking his cock remains steady and firm. “The treasures of this world are mine to be had. No matter where they are, even if they are not yet in my possession, they are mine and mine alone. Treasures such as your pliant body. Such a feast that you are.”

Finally, she decides she’s made his body sufficiently red enough to her liking. Releasing him from the grip of her teeth, she then releases his weeping cock from the confines of his loincloth and thong. She takes it off of him in one smooth motion, his thighs shaking the entire time. 

“Before you I mounted an elf, I had him tied with a series of wonderfully tight ropes. Elves, you see, are wiry little things that… snap in half quite easily. I had hung him on the ceiling once I had finished with him,” it’s an ominous enough sounding statement, and gets the desired reaction. His heart begins beating more quickly, and she wanders about the images his mind must be conjuring.

All she did was tie her elf conquest in a way he was ass up, face down, and she released him when he expressed the need to go relieve his bowels.

But she so does enjoy it when she makes a man get lost in mind while he is dazed by both lust and fear.

Adonis’ cock drips with pre-cum, acting as further lubrication to her hand that returns to stroking his shaft. His penis is veiny and red, and just the perfect size. It will fit comfortably inside her and her walls will clamp down on his member. Perhaps her inner walls will even embrace him lovingly. It will certainly be one of her more enjoyable conquests. It already has been!

“And before then,” she purrs, twisting her wrist over his glans, “I had an orc. They’re a bit of a rarity for me to find. I twisted his arms above his head, and pushed back, and back, and back until his wrists were bound behind his, well, back.” Her mirth is palpable in her voice, especially when his dirty cock twitches in her hand. He’s likely imagining her slowly breaking some unfortunate greenskin’s shoulders, but all orcs are actually double-jointed at that area, so nothing of the sort occurred. If she really wants to scare an orc, she usually opts to choke them.

Still. It is amusing making a sheltered human frightened.

A pleasantly throbbing heat inside her stirs when she sees rivulets of his blood staining the bedsheets, mixing together with the beads of sweat that trail down his quivering muscles. A feverish warmth strikes her core the more she sees the spattering of bite marks and scratches on his body, and how his hands almost obediently continue to grab onto the sheets with a white-knuckle grip. 

Ah, there are a great many things she wishes to do with him. Her toy, her pet, her _treasure._ All including him writhing beneath her, begging and crying about all manner of things. Freyja spreads her soaking wet pussy lips apart, briefly delving a single finger into her depths, a sound of contentment crawling its way through her throat at the thought of him losing himself in his delirious arousal.

Defiling him again, and again, and again— chasing her own pleasure. Nothing stirs her more than feeling a male utterly exhausted beneath her own hostile rapture.

And that’s exactly what she’ll do to him.

She cracks her neck, lining his cock to her entrance and letting out a growl that would make any grown man piss himself.

“Look at me. I wish to see your expression contort in bliss when I engulf you. Be in awe at the splendour of me, pet.”

His silver eyes shoot open, lips parting and quivering in the process. In a split-second he glances down at where they’re about to become one, swallows thickly, and she hears his heart deliciously skip a beat. His shaky gaze meets hers with visible effort and concentration.

Shame is etched on his expression, but his body and eyes… they are pleading. Imploring. _Begging._ She narrows her eyes, her slit pupils like a serpent's eyes, pitiless and glittering. A shiver runs through his lower body when she caresses his glans with her entrance, his fists shaking with the sheets and his own pupils dilating. The growing desperation… it’s something her libido very much appreciates.

Her pet winces when she lowers herself enough to swallow the head of his cock, her warmth and wetness providing him with the pleasure he could have only dreamed of, surely. His lips part slightly to let out a single dribble of drool that streams down the side of his mouth. In a truly dramatic fashion that only a virgin would do, his eyes roll back and he throws his head back in a whine.

Freyja’s muscles clench down on him, making him writhe and twist his body, and spurred on by further arousal, she reaches down to quickly and sharply attack his skin with her nails again, making piercing pain shoot through his lower body. 

“G-Gah…!”

“I do love hearing men squeal.”

Her breasts rock up and down the more her cunt devours his cock, her inner muscles teasing and massaging his member at every inch. She lowers herself slowly, thoroughly tasting his cock with her pussy. Ordinarily she’d be doing _so_ much more to him instead of making his body a portrait of crimson lacerations, but for him she’ll be _gentle._ She intends to have him in her possession for a while. She’ll have time to have her fun and to make good use of him as a toy.

Once she reaches the base of his cock, she believes it is time to fully chase her pleasure in earnest.

One hand slithers down to grab a hold of the chain connected to his collar and pulls it until it is taught, the clinking of the metal reverberating with the Adonis’ heartbeat that remains thundering in her eardrums. With a deep stretch low in her belly, the heat like a hundred suns between her legs, Freyja starts a slow easy rhythm, teasing him with her pussy. 

His breathing stutters, and impressively he is able to keep his eyes open and his gaze trained on her face. His own expression is awashed with anguish, something that makes a sharp and wicked pleasure build up inside her, though there’s an obvious lascivious desire buried within. Heh, human and their apparently innate desire to resist her. She will have him as a wanton and lascivious pet, even if she has to claw his true nature out of him.

Her pet’s eyes are completely glazed and she doubts he is seeing much of anything at this point. Though his face may tell her one thing, his body tells her another. His hips move lustfully, rubbing against her, as if begging to be allowed deeper into her depths. He seems entirely unaware of the movements, and it makes her grin.

Pulling the chain, she lifts herself to almost completely separate themselves from one another, only to bring her hips down to slam against his body with almost bruising force. Adonis’ back arches as he squeals and with sadistic glee overflowing from her every pore Freyja reaches down to begin rubbing her clit. 

She fucks him hard and fast. Ceaseless and unforgiving, she rocks her powerful hips and clenches her muscles down on him. The bed begins to creak and move with every movement. Freyja grunts and growls, and each time she slams down in his quivering body a whimper is forced out of Adonis’ lips. The lewd squelching sounds of their connected form reverberates in the chamber, a cacophony of debauchery her pet could have only dreamed of.

Elation overwhelms her the more she rapidly rubs her throbbing clit. Adonis clenches and unclenches his fists, arms desperately moving up and down the sheets as he struggles to grab onto anything to anchor anything. When she clamps her inner walls onto his cock once more, his eyes roll back. He throws his head back as if he is baring his throat in submission, and she is nearly overcome with the desire to bite at his jugular if it weren’t collared. 

Harshly biting at the throat is what she does to male dragons, but she has since learned that neck unprotected by scales are… not made for that sort of thing. Freyja had to become accustomed to the frailness of the weaker races, but she is now well-aware of the threshold of pain most can withstand.

Freyja straightens her back, whipping her hair back, and the hand still holding onto Adonis’ chain beginning to grope her breasts. The more she bounces on him, the more she knows he will be bruised come the next morning. Just the way she likes it.

“Oho?” Her voice is a guttural noise, looking down at her pet, she sees him still trying to grab onto the sheets, his eyes shut, mouth panting. But even as he takes what she gives him like a good pet, there are moments he bucks his hips to thrust into her, meeting her hips every time she comes down onto him. 

This paltry hesitance, denying himself his true nature— how lovely. 

There is a smouldering rumbling in her lower stomach, an intense hunger and heat that flows through her. The flames inside her grow, and soon acrid tendrils of smoke wisp past her lips. She usually reserves the threat of blowing fire as, well, a threat. But here it is pure gratification that stokes the flames that are currently forming in her stomach and throat. 

If this bed were made of ice it’d be melting, if some rain fell, large wet drops of water would disappear as soon as they struck the hot surface of their skin. The heat is both oppressive and liberation, and she decides it is high time she makes her pet realize the full extent of the pleasure that connects their sweat slicked bodies. The hand on her clit reaches behind her to grab Adonis’ heavy balls, relishing in the yelp that comes with it, and her tail reels back, coming back down to give his thighs a good, hard smack.

“Tell me,” She roars, pulling at his chain and bouncing her body, “Tell me what you’re feeling!”

There is delirium in his eyes now. His back arches, finally succumbing fully to the delectation of their bestial intercourse. He grits his teeth at first, before letting out a loud, shrill groan dripping with bliss.

“A-Ah… haah… it’s… it’s— oh my god,” He splutters on his own spit. “It’s f-feels amazing…!”

Freyja arches her own back when she throws her head back, a great swell of ecstasy shining through her. Further smoke billows between her teeth, accompanied by some blue embers, and once she feels Adonis finish inside her— ah, his screams are _divine—_ she swallows down the growing flames to safely double over and bite at his shoulder again. The blood, sweat and the tears from earlier, all magic on her tongue.

“Pet,” She says in between bites, “My treasure.”

Her orgasm is a flash of blinding white that overtakes each and every one of her senses.

* * *

A sea of white. There is nothing in this expanse except for a flame that flickers and seems to beckon at Adonis. In a blink, he is in a room of fashionable neutral tones, and is curiously impersonal. No portraits of whoever resides in it, no private items that tells him the owner of this room. 

Oh, right. This is his room. He never bothered with knick-knacks and other such items. Never felt the reason to, and also because he was worried about being seen as vain… not that that helped. Regardless about his room being almost completely bare or not, he was seen as vain anyway.

Entirely because of the circumstances of his birth.

_“I wait for you to come home and when you return y ou— you—”_

Adonis kept his ear to the door as he listened to the furious whispering from his father.

_“You come home with another baby ! I — wh at…”_ His whispering became even softer, his ire suddenly dissipating as it was replaced by misery and self-deprecation, _“What did I do wrong? Was I not an attentive enough husband? What did… how could I…”_

The walls of the room broke down, disappearing into a sea of white, and the voices of his father began to become muffled. There is nothing but a ringing in his ears and soon he too is swallowed into a deep, empty nothingness.

* * *

Adonis lies curled up in soft blankets, his body littered in marks and bites, his chest rising steadily and eyes blinking slowly as he slowly awakens from his transient slumber. He’s naked, divested of even his jewelry except for his collar, and his body twitches. He pokes and prods at himself, confirming he is no longer bleeding but… _wow,_ he feels like he has molten gold running through his veins, and his head feels really fuzzy.

That dream… it’s one he has had multiple times at this point. It’s not a memory or anything of the sort, but he is certain it is a conversation his parents have had before. Only, they had it when he was a baby.

Because he _is_ the child that his mother returned with when she went on some diplomatic mission somewhere. He is not his father’s child— and while no one had told him this, he knows that his birth signaled the coming of the concubines and mother’s ever growing harem until his sister was born.

Not that it’s at all strange for a queen to have a harem. If anything it’s fully expected. But clearly his own father was hoping for something different and so here he is, a son who he supposes is technically a bastard. He’s not _really_ a symbol of his mother’s infidelity, because such a concept simply doesn’t exist for a queen. A queen can do what she likes. The paternity of a child means nothing.

_“But a fervent, matrimonial love from your wife will keep you away from filthiness and keep you chaste. And she will… Your love for her will then keep her away from temptations from other harlots.”_

Perhaps it was his own father’s fault that mother sought the embrace of other men. His words certainly imply as much, as yet he only looked at Adonis with such disdain, like he blamed him for somehow being responsible.

_Harlots…_

Then, brightly and quickly, everything comes flooding back. A womanly form on top of him, his complete inability to resist, the ridiculous warmth taking him to heights he never thought possible, the immoral self-indulgence as he lost himself, the _squelching noises—_

Shame crashes on him in waves and it very quickly becomes a bottomless pit. It makes his stomach churn, how he… he _enjoyed it._ That can’t be. He must have been possessed or— or that dragon slipped in an aphrodisiac in his food… Horrified and beyond embarrassed, it feels a heat overtake his face and he cups both his cheeks in his hands, his knees coming to his chest.

_I… I can’t believe…_

The intoxication was instant, like he was in a heady trance. He was taken so easily! He really did just give in to his baser desires like his father said men do! He swears he can still smell the scent of s-s-sex lingering in the air and it paralyzes him. He had surrendered completely to her bites, her scratches, her tongue tasting him as his virginity was ripped away from him. Terrible! Awful! Horribly improper! _Shameful —!!_

_I can’t believe I’m such a whore!_

Hands now gripping his hair, putting his face between his knees with a whimper crawling its way through his parched throat. He could shrivel up and die from humiliation right then and there, though a low chuckle makes him almost jump out of his own skin. Despite the… _fornication_ that just happened, he feels the need to hide his body with the bedsheets, and he holds it up to his chest.

Freyja, the fiend, lounges on a sofa made of upholstered teal fabric with a frame of poplar wood. An elven design, if he remembers her endless comments correctly. She holds a golden goblet with rubies dotting the cup in her hand with a red liquid that looks like wine in it.

His shoulder muscles stiffen, teeth clattering. His breathing comes in spurts, and Freyja tilts her head with a single raised brow.

“As much as I enjoy the rattling of your little heart beating in your chest, I do wonder if you’ll send yourself to an early grave by having it beat too quickly. How much will it take for it to simply burst, hmm?”

Adonis wants nothing more but to throw a pillow or _something_ at her, but his traitorous limbs remain still. 

His mouth, however, doesn’t.

“J-Just hurry it up!” He shouts, wrenching his eyes shut when her expression begins to change, unable to keep looking at her. “If you’re going to eat me just get it over with!”

The silence that drags on seems to last for hours, and with each second he is fully expecting a set of teeth and claws to begin tearing him apart. Hopefully it will be a swift death, whatever that entails. Would it be a mercy if she just beheaded him? Ugh, the mere image of it is almost enough to make him gag—

“Fmhm…” It’s a laugh hidden behind closed lips that soon erupt into a full blown cackle. “Fwuhahahaha!”

Her voice is like thunder; it is a low, rumbling boom. It makes Adonis slowly open one of his eyes out of pure bewilderment. It is not a laughter that makes him feel like his imminent demise is at hand, strangely enough.

She has her head thrown back, though soon her laughter comes to an end, and she looks at him coolly with her serpentine eyes. She is sprawled with regal ease against the sofa and its pillows, looking every inch like a haughty queen despite the brief laughing fit.

“Ever the comedian, I see.” She takes a sip of her wine, her tongue darting from between her lips and Adonis feels a new wave of shame at how much he focuses on the movement. “I have already eaten you, pet.”

The comment is so strange that he can only blink stupidly at her.

“We had connected as one. I engulfed you,” She harrumphs, “One could say I mauled you.” 

He can’t really respond to that other than biting down a strangled noise. _Mauler of Virgins,_ is one of her titles… Surely it was a little more literal than that…

Freyja places her golden cup down, sauntering towards the bed and Adonis finds himself rooted at the spot, unable to move or look away. The only thing he can do is shudder.

“Your helpless face and stifled cries as you foolishly attempted to deny yourself of your own pleasure was quite invigorating. However in spite of that,” She gets on the bed, her knee indenting the mattress, “You were begging for my touch. You exclaimed how amazing it had felt, did you not?”

When she stalks him and comes ever closer, he is driven by a survival instinct to look away, but her finger and thumb captures his chin and forces him to look directly at her. Her sharp nails pinch his skin. The ache in his body flares up, but… _but…_

“I know you have thoughts and urges, pet. Anyone does. You are a libertine. I have heard your heart ache with wanton desire in the time I have had you in my possession. Your cries of ecstasy did not come from nothingness. You are merely afraid of what you crave. Do you refute this?”

Adonis’ thoughts are blank.

What a strange occurrence. Normally his thoughts were twisting and turning; suffocating him with their whispers, and blinding him with glares of disappointment and disdain from his peers that clearly thought he’d amount to nothing. But that’s why he was left in the maw of a dragon by his own mother, isn’t it? Because he’s just… a shameful… tramp…

“It’s not proper…” He whispers, the words like a record on a phonograph playing on repeat. With a sharp grimaces he attempts to banish the feeling that burns within him. Ah, the ache continues… His thighs flex at the sensation... but it only further anneals the growing shame.

_Ngh… it feels… good…_

With a surge of energy, he splutters in order to change the subject.

“S-S-So…. You’re not going to eat me…?”

Freyja looks at him from under her lashes, lips curling in a wide grin that reveals some of her impossibly sharp teeth. The image of her raking those very same teeth against his teeth flashes in his mind for a split-second, making his muscles tense. 

“No. I do not often deign myself to devour the flesh of humans. I have mounted many men such as yourself, yes, but I have always allowed them to return back home.”

“H-Huh…?” He says before he even realizes he’s vocalizing a response. She _doesn’t_ eat the men she also deflowers? But— wait… everyone said…

_Ah._

Somehow, it also makes perfect sense. The men who return home with their virginities taken are probably considered to have a part of themselves killed anyway… And it’s not as though anyone back home ever told him anything… He’d just sit around in his tower, ignorant of everything. 

_No, wait, why should I even believe her?!_

Clearly the look on his face must be humorous, because the next thing he hears is another chuckle. Her haughty countenance makes him feel… warm on the face. 

“You are very proficient in worrying and denying enjoyment, aren’t you, pet? I have found amusement from your reactions thus far, but from now, I cannot abide it. From here on out I shall make your heart race by giving you endless _thrills!”_

Before her words can even register in his mind, the grip she has on his chin tightens, giving him a sting that immediately runs down from his spine straight to his groin. _D-Dammit…_

“Open your mouth,” she commands, still smirking, and confusion comes in on Adonis like a fog to a once clear and sunny day. She practically forces his jaw to slacken. Unable to do anything other than be completely and utterly bewildered, he watches her lips move slightly, and after a moment a silvery glob of _spit_ begins to dribble down. 

The wetness meets his tongue not long after. The thin line of spit is then broken when his mouth is forced closed. Adonis blinks in quick succession, unsure if he should take having her _spit_ in his _mouth_ as an insult— no wait, he should absolutely take it as an insult what is he thinking about—

“Rejoice!” Freyja’s voice rattles in his head and completely takes him out of his voice, “For I have _kissed_ you! I expect endless wonderment and gratitude in due time, pet.”

With a pat on the cheek, she moves away, now standing off the bed again and… the endless confusion he is feeling makes him unable to do anything once more. He feels boneless, and he is suddenly besieged with the desire to just sleep off the lunacy that’s occurring. His mind is caked with mud and fog, and he is just… lost.

Freyja, meanwhile, makes no note of his disorientation, and instead spreads her arms wide. 

“That is but one thrill I shall shower you with! Expect a great many more!” She points at him, her grin reaching her eyes, “I shall make that paltry resistance of yours fail! Indulge in pleasure, Adonis, and be as greedy as you like! I shall teach you the joys of living—!!”

She turns around, sauntering towards the exit of the chamber, though not without one final declaration. 

“There’s no way your heart won’t be leaping. I shall accept nothing less! Fwuhahahaha!”

Her raucous laughter bounces off the walls of the cave, and it remains ringing in his head long after she leaves him. Whenever is able to gain a semblance of sense— and it’s only then does he swallow her spit— he tries and fails to understand literally anything that just happened. 

The more he mulls it over the more his brain becomes a spinning top, always finding more questions than answers. The even more bizarre part is that there's a familiarity to her he simply can't shake, not a memory per se, but echoes that call to his intuition. He must still be trapped in a heady trance of delirious, abhorrent lust.

“Dragons… make no sense…”

With that muttering declaration, he hides himself under the bedsheets, and while he cannot ignore how his mind constantly keeps going back to the memory of her deflowering him, he can at least ignore the hardness between his legs that come with it.

* * *

Sleep is a merciful experience, but he always has to awaken far too soon. 

Adonis’ mind continues to replay certain unsavoury memories that he tries to stamp down. _Denying himself of his pleasure…_ What does that even mean? What does she know…!

He blinks, refocusing, and dresses in his loincloth, thong and face veil. At least his body no longer has its luscious ache…

_Luscious?_

He smacks his cheeks with both his hands to _fully_ wake himself up. Clearly there are vestiges of horrid lust still swimming inside him. Why are men’s bodies built like this? It’s such a chore! His mind and body is never loyal to him in moments such as these!

The pit in his stomach grows more cavernous at the thought of the sheer disapproval from his father and mother. With a grunt, he thinks it prudent to distract himself by burying himself in a bunch of a menial chores. He should go dust something. _Anything._ Though he can’t even get that done, because no sooner does he enter a chamber overflowing with treasure, he is greeted with the sight of a set of _eggs._

Not just any eggs.

Eggs that are half the size he is.

Adonis stares at it, slack-jawed. He is almost drawn to it, and he hesitantly touches one with his hands. The porous surface tickles his palm and he suddenly takes a step back as though the thing burned him when he thinks back to _that._

He may be ignorant of a lot of things… but… b-but…

_Doesn’t sex usually lead to…?!_

“Humans. Always believing themselves more capable than they actually are.” 

Adonis turns on his heels so suddenly that he nearly trips on his own ankles, lips pursed together in a thin line. Freyja has her usual cocksure smirk plastered on her expression, and when he catches a glimpse of her teeth his hand goes to one of the bite marks on his shoulder and he presses his thighs together. Ah, there’s a dull soreness again.

“The only creature that can fecundate a dragon is another dragon. And even if you were the same species as me, I can control my fertility at will,” She flippantly waves her hand, her grin becoming one twinged with more humour with a crinkle in her sly eyes, “You needn’t worry, pet. You shall not experience fatherhood with me, heh.”

His relief is palpable when he heaves a long suffering sigh, then his face immediately flushes, eyes returning to the eggs. There’s about five of them, perched upon a series of pillows of blue and gold satin. His brows furrow, “So… you just laid some unfertilized eggs?”

Her voice is closer when she speaks, and his hand slides to another bite mark, this one being near his hip bone. Adonis swallows thickly, cursing his body the entire time.

“Unfertilized, yes, but these are not new. I had laid them months prior. The high elves enjoy decorating them. They find it to be a grandiose gift for their monarchs, as they should! They paint them and adorn them with a great many precious stones; gold, silver, rubies, rose-cut diamonds, platinum, as well as ivory and pearls. Their most renowned artists spend years further perfecting my eggs.” Her breath tickles the top of his head, sending a shiver down his spine, his fingers absentmindedly trailing a set of scratches on his upper thigh. Freyja lowers her voice as she is in the middle of using her particular version of blandishment and honeyed words to seduce him. Or at least _impress_ him, as absurd as either notions are.

“They like to hollow out the eggs, and at times they’ll make it so that you can open it to reveal a prize. Once they built a miniature dragon automaton that resembled myself to be placed inside! I was most impressed, so I took it for one of my treasuries.” Now he feels her hair hanging down on his shoulder as she leans down to whisper in his ear. “Perhaps I shall show you their finished works when I take you to elven lands.”

Despite himself, he cranes his head to look up at her— she _is_ a good foot taller than him— lips slightly parted. For once, she seems the tiniest bit surprised at him suddenly swiveling his head, and she quirks a brow. 

He doesn’t say anything, whatever thoughts and words being caught in his throat, his mind quickly scattering in different directions. He can’t grab onto a single thread of whatever is going on, except for one permeating emotion: unwavering disappointment. Something bitter settles in his stomach, more powerful than when he stupidly thought of his parents for a split-second. 

All the while, the image of Freyja on top of him taking him, _devouring_ him, while his lust addled self arched his back unashamedly.

He turns his head, exhaling sharply, quickly feeling restless. A treacherous heat pools within his thighs. “I guess I’ll polish your eggs, then,” now there’s a sentence he never thought he’d utter, “and I’ll start cleaning up around here.”

He does just that, musing about how Freyja also has an impressive amount of cleaning supplies for her overly fancy treasury. At least she’s thorough, if anything. Along with the eggs, this chamber seems to be dedicated to mostly furniture, and Freyja makes herself at home on another ostentatious looking sofa. With a cloth and some soap, he sets to work.

All the while, he feels goosebumps assail every inch of his body, knowing that she watches him like a hawk. He absolutely does _not_ take special note at how she seems to purr appreciatively whenever he has to bend over.

And he absolutely, positively, definitely, doubtlessly, does not desire for her to go on one of her many spiels about where she procured these many treasures. 

Nor does he continue to mull over the bites and scratches snaking across his body. He doesn’t think about the dull heat that comes from them. He doesn’t think about the many, many… _feelings_ simmering within him.

He just doesn’t think, period.

After a few minutes of playing butler, his eyes are instinctively drawn to a stringed musical instrument perched against a series of nesting tables. It’s wooden and triangular in shape, and very familiar to Adonis’ eyes.

“A balalaika.” He says.

Apparently having hoped for him to show interest, Freyja speaks, a strange sort of eagerness twinged in her tone. 

“Yes. This instrument is from your very country! But surely you were already aware of such a thing.”

He shrugs, picking at the strings. “Well, it is the national musical instrument of the country.” He says dully, “I’ve seen these quite a few times… I’d watch some of the soldiers playing this from my room’s window.” 

He was never able to hear it, however, since his windows were sealed and his room was on top of a tower. He was too far away to hear it, though it’s not as though he doesn’t know what it sounds like. He’s heard his brothers and sometimes sister play it, though they were always… calm, he supposed. With the soldiers, they were jumping from foot to foot, clapping their hands and clearly singing some type of folksong. Certainly a lot more energetic and boisterous than whatever songs his siblings ever played.

“You have stated you are a poor player of such instruments. Nonetheless this balalaika is here for your enjoyment, as are a great many other tools. Pianos, flutes, violins— whatever your heart desires.”

Glancing behind himself, he sees her grinning widely, as if to say _practice makes perfect._ She wants him to play, he thinks, and isn’t sure if he shouldn’t take this as some bizarre threat or order. Maybe it’s the slight bewilderment he suddenly feels that makes him ask his question, regardless of whether or not he should be cognizant of being careful of not sounding impudent and having his head potentially bitten off if he crosses a line.

“Do you not play anything?”

He watches one of her fingers twitch. Freyja gazes down at her own hands, then huffs as if the answer should be obvious. “If I were to try, they would break under my vigorous strumming. They are not made with a dragon’s claws in mind. In any case, it is much more pleasurable hearing a song played for you, rather than playing it for yourself.”

...That sounds suspiciously like she gets too excited and ends up breaking stuff without meaning to, so she needs him to do it.

The thought makes him feel weird. He can’t name the emotion.

Or maybe he doesn’t want to.

“Might take me awhile for me to even play a song properly,” he says, a furious voice worming itself in his, _why play anything for her? Why are you even talking to her? After what she did to you? Continues to do?_

He grits his teeth, though no sooner when he hears the accusatory voice does he feel something soft placed on top of his head. He quickly realizes it’s a hat when it partly obscures his vision. A wide-brimmed hat at that.

“Headwear is single handedly the most important facet of one’s wardrobe.”

Adonis finds himself with that meddlesome curiosity sparking up in his head. He really shouldn’t entertain her, and yet he asks another burning question anyway. “It is?”

“Oh yes,” apparently this was also something she was waiting for, as Freyja, now standing, takes a step forward and upon doing so she immediately invades his personal space. “It is after all the piece framing one’s visage,” Those sharp claws caress his face, and Adonis swallows thickly, an action that clearly makes her a bit gleeful as she purrs lowly. “And such a fine face you have.”

For a second, her finger goes over his lower lip, before she steps back to appraise him. With a small tilt of her head, she’s apparently satisfied with the hat on his hat, but takes it off to put another one. A fur cossack hat that nearly engulfs his entire head.

“There are times I find it quite insulting when I see someone disgracing themselves by _not_ tailoring their outfit after their headwear! After all, you greet one another by looking them in the eyes, do you not? A hat will be the periphery of my vision, and it will naturally affect my impression of your appearance and character! If perched upon your head is an expertly crafted masterpiece one can only presume you possessed qualities most favourable, no? There is a _reason_ monarchs of all races wear such grandiose headwear.”

She states it with a strange sort of zeal and conviction that Adonis can’t help but nod, though in doing so the cossack slips off his head and he catches it with his hands. At that moment, he looks down on himself and his lack of clothing. He has a set of jewels on his forehead but not a hat, and he squints at the dragon.

“If you think so highly about hats then why didn’t you add one to my wardrobe when you dress me up in this outfit?” He pauses, “Why don’t _you_ wear one?”

“Hah! How do you not know that every hat in my treasury is yours to enjoy, as are the musical instruments? I did not need to adorn you with headwear because of so, and because I needn’t have to assure that any guests I may have the highest impression of you— they will already know you possess qualities most favourable because you belong to me.”

Adonis scrunches his face together at the word ‘guest’ and the rest of her statement doesn’t really register to him— because if it did he’d probably be absurdly blushing like a trollop by now— and notes her lack of answering his second question. Though a slight glance upwards seemingly answers it for him. Her horns. 

She can’t wear hats or clothes because she’d destroy them unintentionally. So she needs him for it, just like with balalaikas and other instruments. _Huh._

The cossack in his hands is taken away, and another hat is placed on his head. Another wide brim, though this one has a large triangular top that sags slightly— a witch’s hat. One that apparently Freyja is none too pleased with because she takes it off him almost immediately after, flinging it to the side and saying, “Hmph. This was a hat of a High-Witch from an academy of magic further west, but the years have been unkind to it. It no longer has any splendour to it and is unworthy of my treasury now. I shall get rid of it.”

With that, another hat is put on him. Curiously, this one has holes on the top, though not big enough for her horns. It’s brightly coloured, with yellow fringes hanging off the brim that end with small red balls made of string.

“This is a weird one…” he murmurs.

“I have been told this is a hat worn during festivals in the far east. I have yet to travel there, and I’ve procured this item from a drow encampment. Their kind have been making advances towards several naval ports they believe to be useful, though the orcs wanted to claim it for themselves and wished for the drow to recognize portions of the east as being within their sphere of influence.” She takes the hate off him, looking at it, huffing a throaty chuckles, “Politics is always amusing, especially when I can turn the tides of war with the beat of my wings. Sometimes I muse over why they even bother.”

Adonis thinks he’s heard of this conflict in passing whispers here and there, aptly titled the Orc-Drow War. It lasted a year and ended with the drow being victorious, though it didn’t take long for them to leave the east anyway because the inhabitants whose land the two belligerents fought over became too much of a handful, apparently.

Then he remembers something else.

“Oh… I think I saw illustrations of some easterners in books once… some of them have animal ears and tails, I think.”

“Indeed! And some of them can change fully into beasts like myself. I look forward to descending upon them whenever I should choose to grace the east with my presence.” She sets the festival hat aside, picking up a black and white one with a central crease and a golden medallion in the middle. A military hat, he realizes, one he’s seen some soldiers of high standing wear outside his window.

“On the notions of politics, pet, how knowledgeable are you of your own country?”

He frowns. “Not a lot,” the military hat is put on his head, though it doesn’t fit and droops down the side. “They don’t often tell men anything about that,” he says wryly, “I may have overheard people saying stuff but that was it.”

He takes the hat off, staring at the medallion set just above the brim. The image embossed onto the gold is of a phoenix, a symbol he now finds fairly ironic considering Freyja apparently threatened to burn everything down unless he was given to her. Ah, wait, he thinks he does know a little bit, more whispers from more guards.

“There was a sharp rise of taxes to afford protection against you. It frustrated a lot of people,” he says. Turns out trying to get a military to protect a capital against a dragon is expensive work.

“Mhm. And in my discussions with your mother— I’ll have you know I was nothing but magnanimous to your kind even after her absurd accusations that I was being too cruel— I had been made aware that she was in the midst of dealing with issues regarding the serfdom of your neighbouring country of Rasmeinia.”

Yes, he’s vaguely aware of that, though Adonis is unsure of where this is going.

“One of your mother’s more recent reforms included mandatory military service, including from those from Rasmeinia. She was especially fervent in getting those peasants to be conscripted in order to quell their desire for independence from Dracoustein. And yet that plan failed miserably and they rebelled.”

Unsure of how to respond, though still feeling that same meddlesome curiosity stir inside him, he nods.

“But such an insurrection was quickly extinguished because _I_ began to threaten your meager capital. And once I had taken you and removed myself, your mother abruptly ended serfdom in Rasmeinia— a full-scale rebellion would have proven too costly now. And so the conflict was quietly resolved because of I!” She puts her hands on her hips, a haughty pride written across her expression, “It was due to my involvement that the tension resulted in no bloodshed between those two nations! My benevolence surely knows no bounds!”

Adonis hands twitches and he thinks he can feel a vein pulsing in his forehead. Something uncomfortable churns in his gut. Freyja smiles widely and— and he just wishes she’d have a cruel sneer on her face instead but she _doesn’t._

“Are you expecting me to congratulate you? Or to thank you?” He asks suddenly, immediately clamping his mouth shut. Ah, shit, this when his stupid questions are going to kick him in the rear, but the words keep coming out, his voice becoming more bitter. “Why tell me anything about your treasury? How exactly do you want me to react to all this?”

Freyja’s eyes narrow, though it is almost playful instead of anything accusatory and that… That makes whatever is churning in his gut stir even further. She’s a beast. She could destroy the capital with ease. She took him from his home. 

And yet she somehow doesn’t seem as threatening right now.

He hates it.

...He thinks. He _knows._

“You have a curiosity to satiate. I know this. I am merely entertaining us both.” She casually inspects her sharp nails, “The unknown is _thrilling._ And I intend to give you several thrills, remember? It will become all the more electrifying when I take you to—”

Adonis doesn’t listen to her next words, the sounds all morphing into a vague buzzing noise ringing in his head. Every word stings, somehow. Every violating phrase makes something thrum in his veins. He hadn’t realized he was clenching his fists, but now his jaw is tightly clenched.

Why are dragons so cruel? And why is he just standing there just letting this happen after she did _that_ to him?

“You took my virginity.” He says blankly. It’s something he’s obviously very and painfully aware of. But the reality has yet to fully sink in, he thinks. The… _sensations_ he had felt… still seem to flare up inside him every now and then. The sweat, the blood, the… semen. It was something he had feebly blocked from his mind and the wall begins to crack.

His cock had never felt like that before. He genuinely thought he was going to lose his mind. Or just die on the spot when he finished because the feeling was like a white hot punch to the gut.

But perhaps he has already lost his mind anyway, because the disgust he should— _must —_ keep feeling is seemingly nonexistent now. Instead what is there is a vague tingling sensation. Perhaps he’s experiencing some sort of denial. 

Freyja’s lips curl in a knowing smirk, seemingly amused at the change of subject. “Indeed. And I intend to take all of your other firsts as well.”

He’s dirty. He’s so, so very dirty. 

And she’ll just continue to dirty him.

Adonis shakes his head furiously, stepping away quickly and face contorting in a tight scowl. He doesn’t even say anything, though his meaning is apparently clear for the beast. She raises a single brow for a moment, then clicks her tongue disapprovingly. 

“You wish to say it is improper again, don’t you? You were in my embrace a mere day prior, and yet you continue to worry about propriety?” Freyja actually appears to be baffled for once as she frowns. “Surely there will come a time you will tire of this routine. I proclaimed that you may indulge in pleasure, did I not? Why do you refuse to do so?”

Though her frown doesn’t last long, as she rubs her chin with her finger and thumb, as if deep in thought. Her typical smirk returns, “Aha, perhaps you _are_ being greedy. Is this your attempt of having me spoil you even more excessively? Are you saying what I have given you is not enough? How very adorable of you, pet. Very well! Come to me and I shall embrace once more!”

Adonis can’t _do_ anything, be it escaping or scraping up a barely passable retort. He just stands there, his thoughts like a storm in his head. _Why do you refuse to do so?_ She has the gall to ask, as if he even knows the fucking _answer_ to that. He doesn’t know anything! He’s just been parroting what his father has taught him because— because father was _always_ right about everything…!

Something sharp and dismal pierces him as he averts his gaze to look at anything but Freyja. _She’s naked,_ he stupidly reminds himself, feeling that insufferable heat again. He feels his chest tighten into a knot the more he thinks of his parents and home because he _knows_ that despite his incessant need to convince himself that Freyja must be doing everything to torment him, to remind him of things he’ll never have or experience… he… he…

He shakes his head vigorously, pointing at Freyja.

“What, is this another one of those thrills you talked about?! You take me from my home and take my virginity and then you have the gall to say you’re going to— to take me places?! To teach me the joys of living, or whatever it is you said?! Are you insane?!”

His voice wavers, his hand shaking furiously with each punctuated shout. He begins to struggle on anything, soon realizing his vision is quickly becoming blurry from moist tears. Adonis’ frustration at everything grows, only further exacerbated by his ever present confusion.

Freyja’s eyes widen for a second before they narrow in apparent anger.

A spike of fear hits him in an instant, and completely overwhelmed with absolutely no idea of how to continue from here, his shaking legs move on their own. Adonis runs, his breath hiccuping as he chokes on nothing as he sprints aimlessly with no destination in mind, the chain of his collar rattling on the ground the entire time.

* * *

He doesn’t know where he is, or how far he has run, but the muscles in his legs burn and his chest feels like it's breaking down on itself. Adonis’ breathing is ragged and his throat burns as he leans on the wall of the cave. There’s no treasure here, but not like whatever distance he had run matters, because Freyja will find him and then what? He’s just an idiot who had an outburst that will do absolutely fucking _nothing._

Suddenly weightless, Adonis falls to his knees, gasping sharply as tears escape his eyes, running away upon his cheeks. The uncomfortable heaving that comes with it leaves his body feeling as though he’s about to shatter like glass.

One single recollection of his father and he thinks he might vomit then and there. He really had weaponised his teachings, he thinks derisively. Men are stupid. Men are naturally promiscuous. Men are nothing if they do not keep their purity for marriage. 

And Adonis is all that _and_ an unwanted son because apparently his own mother was channeling her inner Freyja by sleeping with whatever man she fancied. But oh no, that was entirely his fault too, if his father’s lingering scowls of disdain was anything to go by. 

He grits his teeth, breath hitching as the tears continue to stream down his face. His hands grab at his hair, brows pinching together. Long buried resentment begins to burst forth, his mind full of hateful things that he can’t even fully explain or understand himself. The lingering pain from his stupid father and his stupid mother and his stupid tower— it was only ever something he could shake by merely agreeing and blaming himself.

“I hate this. I hate this,” he chokes out, voice weak and pathetic. “Why me?”

Everyone back home expects him to be dead. Does anyone truly miss him? All he’s ever done was stay in that abhorrent tower.

But more than anything, he knows more all this horrible emotion bursting forth is from something more. Something he desperately doesn’t want to admit because he feels that would be the last nail on the coffin.

_“You are merely afraid of what you crave.”_

They say men should fear their wives.

But also… the wife should cherish their husbands.

A husband must obey his wife in all things cheerfully and willingly, without gainsaying and with reverence, but _only_ if his wife lavishes him with matrimonial love and adoration. A collar is a symbol of a man being owned by a woman, but also of her protection over him. It is something precious on his neck, one of his most vulnerable areas, and embraces his skin as a safeguard. Holy fear, reverence and obedience begets safety and being held dear to someone.

_“My treasure.”_

Adonis knows he was not only trapped by the tower. He had trapped himself, trapped with a longing for attention that only ensured that the attention he received was something he convinced himself was negative and improper. Ah, he must really be weak-willed to have whatever desires he has buried creep up to the surface again, this time with no resistance. A shame still lingers, though now it is drowned out pathetically easily.

He wants attention. He wants to be _wanted._ Is it so terrible to one day like to be called someone’s treasure? Does he dare believe that Freyja genuinely wants him around and isn’t doing everything to simply mock and torment him? Does she truly want to _take_ him to far off lands he’s only ever dreamed of? Why him? What does she see in him?

He feebly pulls at the chain connected to his collar with no results, unsure of what he is even trying to achieve. Adonis is trembling, sputtering wet hiccups and heavy breathing; just an utter delirious wreck. 

There’s a searing heat in him again.

“Ah… ah…”

Recollections of a body on top of him invades his mind. The sound of gleeful, feminine yet guttural, laughter and growls echoes in his ears. His hand explores the bites and scratches, gasping sharply— the feeling is tempting and improper but so, _so_ good.

Deep down, Adonis knows another source of his shame.

Blood rushes to his groin and a low moan escapes his parched throat. He wants more. He wants that sinful pleasure, and he begins chasing that elusive release he knew he couldn’t ever receive back home. His hands roughly grab at himself, and he sloppily rubs his cock until it is fully hard, aching, hurting _but it feels amazing._

In the scant few days he has been Freyja’s pet a part of him has found more enjoyment and sense of belonging here than he ever felt back home. Something about that absolutely kills him.

Sweat now lining his body, the intoxicating warmth engulfs him entirely as he continues to rub himself raw. The confusion and conflicting emotions doesn’t leave him, feelings that battle with one another to claim dominance in his mind. Is this right? Is this wrong? He doesn’t know.

All he does know is that he wants to feel that pleasure again.

He shouldn’t want this. He mustn’t.

But he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freyja's trying y'all! She just doesn't understand these pesky humans and their strange worries! 
> 
> Also, look, I swear I can write good parents. It’s just that with a dude with puritanical/misandrist views, as well as a bring a sheltered prince… Poor parenting was simply the easiest conflict I could use to explain why Adonis is like this lol. I swear whatever multichapter story I write after this and Blind Woman and an Elephant it will involve actually decent parents. 🤣
> 
> More Freyja POV was meant to be written after the end, but I figured I can leave that for the next chapter since I think Adonis having an angst fest is an alright place to finish the chapter. Hopefully ch.4 won't be take another month. This one just put me on the struggle bus and while I do not like this chapter, I genuinely can't be bothered to change it. So, here ya go. There'll be some tasty make-up (I guess you can call it that?) sex as well as some... other things in the future. 😉


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically two chapters in one.

Blood and sweat. Those are the scents Freyja is most acquainted with, especially in her youth, before she had become the menace she is today. When she experienced her first mating season, that is when she had begun to battle. She had no territory to her name, no males either, and for dragons the only way to achieve either is through bloodshed.

Her first victory was among the most gratifying experiences in her life. She had barely reached adulthood and clearly the dragon she had fought with was equally as young considering her size, but all that mattered was her lying beneath Freyha, breathing slow and shallow. Her opponent’s dark green scales were stained with rivulets of red, and blood pooled at her mouth. Freyja could taste the copper in her mouth. One of her teeth had been knocked out in the scuffle, and she too was littered in scratches. 

Trees had been uprooted and strewn about from the two dragons wrestling one another, and what grass was there was just mounds of dirt. Freyja’s could feel a dull ache in her back from roughly landing on an oak tree after being thrown, but the feeling was muted when all she felt was the delicious sensation of victory.

That day, that very second, her heart wanted out of her chest. It wanted to beat free of its cage. It pounds like it was going to crack a rib. Oh, wait, she had actually cracked a rib in the battle. Her senses were on high alert. Every colour was brighter, every noise louder, every touch all the more electrifying.

Of course, she did not win any males for that mating season. One needs to be victorious over several females and have significant territory to be awarded mating rights. That was the one and only fight Freyja could withstand for that season, and she limped back to her cave and waited for the season to end. Which was torture in of itself considering the blasted hormones making her both desperate and exceedingly aggressive— the need to _fuck_ was ridiculously intensified and the only way she could deal with it was tearing the walls of her cave to shreds and rubbing herself dry in her humanoid form.

And so, when her hormones finally subsided and she could function more normally, she did what every dragon would be doing: Preparing for the next season.

Her wounds healed over time, and she trained her body by flying laps across islands, doing sharp turns and diving under tree branches. She perfected her fire breathing by practicing on the local humans and elves. No longer were they paltry puffs of smoke, now they had become flames of devastation. She built her territory over more disputes among other dragons. There were more losses over victories, and so, the next season she was not successful either.

It took several years for her name to truly take root in the minds of others. As it turned out, she still had some growing to do, her body becoming larger with the more muscle she packed on.

Then she could keep her claim on the land, and defeated several adversaries, that was when she claimed her first male. It was only then her reputation soared to new heights.

Perhaps ‘mating’ is not the appropriate term for what she and her several conquests did during those seasons. After all, she did not allow herself to become fertilized. Why should she? No doubt her daughters would be as powerful as she is! She would only be making more competition for herself! She wasn’t about to do something so daft!

No, she only desired sex and to dominate.

Of course, the males intensely desired a brood. Their own hormones compelled them to submit to the strongest female, naturally, so that she may give him a set of eggs that he lovingly gathers and take away with him to a separate nest. Though such yearning, their biological drive, did not stop them from continuing to seek her out after smelling her scent and witnessing her victories.

A male’s lustful expression as he laid beneath her… It fed the flames inside her. It never ceased to make her laugh, her voice both delighted and sinister. Freyja could always feel every ridge, every vein of his cock when his length was sheathed entirely inside her. She generally fucked her whorish mates when they were both in their human-like forms, as the lack of wings and being no longer large enough to uproot trees if she just rolled over made things simpler. 

_“Go on, make yourself useful and use your hips!”_ She exclaimed excitedly, puffs of smoke coming from between her teeth the more she became aroused. This male— a dragon with scales darker than even the midnight sky and eyes as blue as the finest sapphires, grimaced slightly due to her claws currently scraping against his pliant yet muscular body, but his voice was filled with wanton arousal.

_“Ah… Ah—! You’re amaziiiiing, My hips are gonna fall offff…!”_ His voice is slurred, as if drunk, and his tongue hangs out of his drooling mouth as he does as commanded. His hips move up to meet Freyja’s as she slams down on him ferociously, back arching as he squeals happily from being taken by someone as powerful as her. His hands stayed on her tights, gripping them tightly but a female dragon’s scales are thicker than a male’s, and so he did not so much as pinch her.

_“Just what I expect from a perverted, incontinent whore— you get so worked up and shameless the moment someone takes you. You wish for my brood so desperately that you beg me to fuck you for hours on end! Even going as far as to debase yourself by licking my feet, haha! You are truly wise to know where your place is!”_

Her conquest’s thrusts were pathetic compared to Freyja’s own movements. She was feeling particularly gleeful in that moment, so she decided to punish him— which were inevitably interpreted as rewards by the masochistic males— and she reeled her tail back to intensely smack him on the legs in quick succession. It was an action that would later become a habit of hers every time she took a man. 

And the occasional rare female if she was feeling like indulging in something different.

_“Ohn… Ngh..! Ah!”_ Every hit of her tail is punctuated by him squealing in pleasure, his fit abs flexing beneath her claws as Freyja decided to begin drawing blood. His eyes were glazed over in prurience, which only enticed her to become even rougher. One claw continued to rip at his scales, while the other slithered up to grab his throat.

_“Freyja! Freyja, Freyja, Freyja…”_ Him calling out her name was like a song of worship. Singing her name with such reverence and desperation was something that became increasingly common with the men she fucked. As it should be! At that time, they were finally becoming aware of her greatness!

Tightening her hold on his neck made his mantra cut out with a slight cough, which in turn made Freyja contract her vaginal walls in delight. Her clit throbbed as his cock twitched inside her. It never took long for males to finish during mating season. After all, all their senses were heightened, and the idea was they needed to be quick so they both could find another mate for another brood.

_“Ngghm…! Ahn! F-F-Freyja!”_

His back arched in a debauched display of revelry as he finished inside her. Freyja, also overwhelmed by her own lust, released his neck— only for her to bring her hand above her head and then she delivered it back down to slap him violently. 

The crack in the air, accompanied by the male’s voice becoming louder and drowning in pleasure, made the muscles in Freyja’s thighs tighten. She grinned wolfishly at the dragon trembling under her. The slap had forced him to turn his head to the side and upon seeing his defenseless neck, and driven on by her instincts to domineer, she quickly leaned down to bite him. 

With a final contraction of her inner walls, she felt sadistic gratification wash over her. It felt like a spark went straight from her clit to her entire body, making her entire being quake.

When all was said and done, Freyja dismounted the panting male. As he slowly gathered himself she spread her pussy lips in front of him, his seed dripping out of her.

_“I have no desire to give you a brood. Come clean your taint, swine.”_ She said with a cackle in her voice.

Of course, there was a second of disappointment in a male’s eyes whenever she declared that, but with his hormones still controlling him he still felt nothing but the innate eagerness to concede to her. And so, his face went straight to her cunt, his tongue sloppily licking at her entrance and lapping up at his own semen.

Inevitably, once she had finished with him, the male would leave in search for another female. And in turn she’d come into contact with another male she would conquer. During each season, Freyja would have a seemingly endless supply of other dragons to fuck. Truly, her efforts to become more powerful was rewarded by having a harem during the mating seasons.

But it was not enough.

Mating seasons only last for so long, and after then the males disappear off to somewhere secret with their newly acquired eggs so that particularly competitive females cannot kill the young when they hatch.

But naturally Freyja can’t just _not_ have sex until the next season happens. Her hormones may have calmed down but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still have a sex drive!! Bah, once she had read a book from a human scholar and it mentioned something called _abstinence—_ a truly nonsensical concept that only humans could conjure up! She needed more! Not just pleasure of the flesh, but more power in general! Domination came in many different forms and the older she got the more she craved the endless adulation. The _attention._ All these non-dragons living in _her_ territory… They could give her a _truly_ endless supply of males, so that she would never be alone—

_Freyja, Freyja, Freyja._

Her kind would not be the only ones who sing out her name.

And following razing several cities, bathing civilizations in a sea of fire, they indeed knew her name.

Elves. Orcs. Humans. She took her time with them. She cultivated their fear, making sure that generations to come would know of her. That parents would fearfully recount stories of her frightening power. That they would paint her visage on the walls of their cathedrals. That she would become so entrenched in their history and culture that they simply won’t know what it was like before she befell them. 

But it was not the only thing she did. Of course, any conqueror needs moments of respite, even if it meant taking a break from delivering fire and brimstone on her subjects for a good decade or two. As the treasures she collected grew, she found needed several caves to house them. Thus, she began to travel extensively, finding new homes for her treasures. She especially enjoyed caves in the mountains, both due to potential thieves usually being rare and because when she wasn’t busying herself by being a menace to the populations below her, she merely laid in front of her cave entrances and watched them. 

One’s look of fear as she descended upon them was an amusing enough sight, but watching the other races wage war on one another over the centuries was entertaining in its own right. Humans especially seemed to harbour a special type of madness on many an historic occasion. The spectacle of humans driven insane by hatred was a sight to behold, and if it amounted to the destruction of millions due to opposing sides of the umpteenth war clashing, then so be it! They are jesters in her court! She always did enjoy a good show!

From their own bloodshed and carnage came new cities. Among them being Dacroustein, a city named after its own nation and that unbeknownst to her at the time would be something she came to watch very, _very_ intently for the years to come.

It had begun when she returned to the mountain cave after spending some time at another treasury of hers far away. In her absence, the humans of Dacroustein had built a tower. Every brick of that tower had been placed by the workers hands into a perfect circle. It rose like the strong stem of a plant, one from good rich soils does, toward the canvas above. It was painted in an ivory white, which became bleached as the years went on. Eventually, vines started growing around it, curving around what few windows were available.

Initially, it did not interest her. But once, after taking care of some orcs and taking some of their men to her bed, she lounged in front of the entrance of her cave in her dragon form. Her eyesight being as it is, she could see the inhabitants of Dacroustein mulling around and doing their business, but they of course could not see her perched atop the mountain. 

The tower being the tallest building of the city and a noticeable landmark inevitably meant her eyes would usually be drawn to it. She saw a figure by one of the highest windows. Narrowing her eyes revealed it was a young man, with chestnut brown hair and silver eyes. His chin rested on his hand, and he just seemed to stare blankly out the window. He did so for the hour Freyja watched him.

Done with her sunbathing, Freyja stood and stretched, her jaws opening widely in a yawn, and she retired back to her cave to sleep.

Little did she know that every time she stayed at this particular treasury, she would always watch him in moments of leisure. Again, she surmised it was because of the tower being one of the most eye-catching buildings in the city. The castle that surrounded it was indeed interesting in its own right, with its unique architecture she has not seen anywhere else in her travels. But it was always the tower she returned to looking at.

And the man who seemed to live in it.

Without fail he was always there, no matter how long she looked. Most of what he did was just look out the window, looking at the people below not unlike what she was doing. He didn’t seem… _bored,_ per say, just a bit… melancholic, in a way. Some moments he would read a book, do some strange movements on his legs that she would only much later learn to be ballet.

And sometimes, he’d appear to receive a lecture from an older man.

He did not seem to enjoy those moments, as whenever the older man left he would proceed to lie on his bed, his face covered by one of the pillows.

How very perplexing. The sight often made her tilt her head. 

But every time, she’d watch for a bit, and then retire back to her cave. Though more and more, as the time passed, she’d become besieged by a strange niggling sensation at the back of her head. Like she was forgetting something. Or missing something. She wasn’t quite sure, but she always ignored it.

Another time, when Freyja had returned to the mountain cave after spending time in another treasury, she bedded some elves. They were men she specifically picked out. All with chestnut brown hair. Elves are spindly little things that could easily snap in two if she decided to bend them in half, and yet at the same time they seemed especially resilient to what she did to them. It was because of elves she had begun to indulge in… _toys._ Handcuffs, chains, whips and the like. Always testing out something new on an elf that was more than happy to bare his skinny body to her.

After she had finished with the three elves whose virginities she had just taken, she waves her hand.

_“I am satisfied. You may return home.”_

The elves, as they often do, groveled their thanks to her. Foreheads pressed to the ground, their nearly delirious smiles evident in their voices.

_“Thank you, Freyja, Empress of all. Your grace truly knows no bounds.”_ One said.

_“You have given us such a gift with this night, Eater of Innocence. Thank you.”_ Another chimed in.

_“We will never forget—”_

She interrupted the third with a click of her tongue, something that made all their shoulders tense noticeably. Ordinarily, she would allow them to go on and on with their thanks and praise. Adulation _is_ something she is always due, after all. But tonight she finds herself growing impatient.

She has a tower to look at.

_Mhm. I wonder when I had begun designating specific hours of the day to look at him._

No matter. It is merely a change of her usual routine. She told the elves to leave, and they promptly did so. She still felt the satisfaction of sex, and the aroma of lust still lingered in the air, and so she made herself comfortable just outside the entrance of the cave in her bestial form and begun looking down at Dacroustein.

There he sat at the window, the same as always. Dressed in what looks like fine, lavender silks. He has a gaggle of servants who dress him and style his hair, the sort of attention she believes a man of his beauty is truly deserving of, but afterwards… Nothing. He stayed in the tower and remained there, despite the clothes. 

It was… _not_ enough attention.

It made her feel slightly restless. Does one not proudly present their finest possession to all those who can see? How else will one’s subjects know the extent of your power if you do not show them the riches that you hold?! Freyja takes great care to overwhelm a man with her treasury before she beds him. It is only right! Treasures are meant to be seen! _Appreciated!_

If one does not take care of a rose it will wilt! 

Freyja began tapping the rock with one of her claws impatiently. Puffs of smoke came from her nostrils when she huffed. The previous treasury she had spent some days at had a library, with most books being written by humans. Mostly something to spare her from boredom, but she had found herself reading some… specific things. Things she has every intention of implementing.

She did not acknowledge that the entire time she was spending in another cave far from Dacroustein that she was reminiscing over how the faint glimmer of the afternoon sun would ghost over this man’s pale skin and his eyes were as deep as the heart of the sea. Or how she seemed attracted to him with the kind of heady trance that brings a butterfly to nectar. Or how on the rarest of moments, she’d look at the four walls and roof of her cave, and then be reminded of a tower.

She has never kept a man in her possession for long. For the first time, she wondered what it would be like to someone simply _here._ For days. Months. Years. 

This man— this lowly human— he is more beautiful than the winter sun above pristine snow despite her first finding him plain. He had successfully mesmerized her! Truly a magnificent feat! Perhaps humanity has some powerful magic in them somewhere! And that— That makes him most desirable!! A _treasure!!_

Freyja has razed cities. Destroyed civilizations. Killed those who opposed her. The satisfaction of bloodying the earth is an eternal one, and one she would never tire from. _But._

She wished for a different sort of satisfaction. It was not something she was even aware of at the time, nor was it a feeling she was acquainted with. A desire to have something living in her treasury, to stay with her… It was merely a vague niggling sensation at the back of her head she dismissed, unknowing of how much it grew, grew and grew the more she watched this man.

She had seen this tower inhabitant look morose and quite pitiful for some time now. She does not think she’s seen him wear a different expression at all.

She wonders what his face twisted in fear would look. How he would look when overwhelmed by lust. How about when he is embarrassed? Bashful? How does he express surprise?

What about when he is actually, truly happy? When he finds pleasure in something new? How would all these feelings smell like? How would it sound like when she hears his heartbeat?

Freyja found she wanted to see those different emotions.

It was time for her to indulge in something new.

And it was time for her to descend upon that city.

* * *

Humans, entertaining as they may be, consistently find ways to confound Freyja.

Adonis’ face softened at her words when she mentioned taking him to elven lands. It was disbelief intermingled with a fragile hope. It was only for a moment before he turned his head away and busied himself by cleaning her eggs, but the image lingers in her mind, the same way the memories of him being alone in his tower remains in her head. 

And then he had a small tantrum and ran off. Freyja supposes humans are generally the most emotional of all the races, always crying one moment and then being blushing bachelors the next. Surely her pet is well-aware that attempting to run in this cave will quite literally lead him nowhere. She can _smell_ him— and his scent is… interesting now. A modicum of fear, but it is also overwhelmed by the honeyed aroma of lust, which just further confounds her over what he just did.

Well, _now_ she simply must go seek him out. 

All this time she has done nothing but react to what _he’s_ been giving her. How he smells, how he blushes, how his heart beats in his chest— every little thing has told her that he’s been _enjoying_ everything, and yet continues to resist. Simply put, if he were a dragon he would be rolling on the ground, baring his neck, and begging for her touch. At least her kind do not try to oppose their biology. Females are rough and violent, always taking what they want and demanding more, and males happily submit so that they may receive a brood from the strongest to take care of. 

Though, again, a human’s emotions makes them unpredictable, she surmises. And that does indeed make them more intriguing to bed. It’s one of the many reasons she took Adonis as her pet in the first place. They’re more… stimulating, in a way. 

This is merely a part of her desire to break down his walls. She meant what she said when she would teach him the joys of living. She should have expected this to occur.

Freyja inhales deeply, taking in Adonis’ sweet and sour scent and begins to follow it. 

This is a thrill in its own way. Something new and different for her. Freyja smiles at the thought of it.

It does not take long for her to find him. He had scuttled off in a corridor she considered too thin and cumbersome to use it as a storage for her treasure. She had to push some of the rock aside to reach him, and she raises a brow at him being curled up in the fetal position, panting heavily and body slicked with salty sweat.

His hands shake violently, and on his palms there is a string of pearly white semen. He does not look at her as he continues to heave.

“If you wished to toy with your genitals, I would have been quite content to watch. You needn’t try to hide your arousal from me.”

She had said it to… be casual? An attempt to alleviate whatever counterproductive stresses he is currently forcing upon himself, perhaps. She’s not quite sure, but regardless, the current sight and state of him makes her frown in distaste. She does not like how he is now.

She does not like how it makes her feel.

“Are you quite finished yet?” She then says, this time with a more authoritarian tone, “You must wash yourself. I have heard many times how much your kind enjoys bathing with bubbles and lavender. Perhaps it will make you more sound of mind.”

Freyja half expects for his heart to skip a beat out of fear due to the discontent that is twinged in her voice, like she is scolding him. But that does not occur, instead, he continues to be a pitiful picture of pure misery. 

Adonis looks up at her with pleading, red-rimmed eyes, before returning his gaze to his soiled and trembling hands.

“There’s something broken inside me, isn’t there?”

He says it with such a soft voice that she believes it was a question mostly directly to himself. Freyja feels one of her eyes twitch and she nearly clicks her tongue disapprovingly again, but she resists the urge. Instead, she opts to go down on one knee, reaching forward to grasp his chin in her hand to force him to look at her. Her expression is hard, though that too doesn’t make him afraid considering his heart rate and gaze remains the same, and he apparently seems comfortable by wallowing in his own pity. It is beginning to become a grating sight.

“You fool. Are you questioning whether I have an eye for quality? That I am unable to find the true worth in something?”

Blinking owlishly, Adonis opens his mouth, only to close it, his lips quivering. He’s confused, obviously. A confused man wouldn’t just yell at her, run away, and then make himself ejaculate. Not to mention how he currently reeks of lust from having clearly finished just moments ago. Humans. Always making things more complicated than they need to be.

At the lack of a response from him, she continues.

“I have stated from the beginning that you shall remain intact if you entertain me, did I not? And that I would provide for you? Why must you continue to be intent on believing that I am not true to my word?” She huffs, “Hmph. You say I took you from your home. And yet it only appeared to me you were a hostage in a tower, a treasure that was not being given the due care it deserves. Such neglect is truly unbecoming for your race.”

That appears to get his attention, his eyes becoming more focused and heartbeat more steady.

“Perhaps it is not clear to you, but I am quite particular of what I allow to be kept in my treasuries. I only collect the finest all races have to offer. Many cannot last as long as I do, as I’m sure you’ve seen with that fraying witch’s hat, but I do not accept all offerings, nor do I simply seize _everything_ that comes my way. I do not bed just any man, either.”

There is a wry twitch of his lips, evidently not believing her. No matter, she will accept that almost unseen smile. It is better than his current state.

“I have been watching you in that tower, pet,” she smirks, “I have quite good eyesight as a dragon. Certainly better than those eyeglasses you humans use. I had watched you for some time. Remember what I had said before I bedded you? Men such as yourself are much like flowers. As such, they should be taken care of lest you wish for them to wilt. You were wilting in your tower. I know it.”

He sniffles, more clarity coming to his eyes, though there is still a haze of disorientation that likely will not go away tonight. There is still an internal struggle, but only he can quell that nonsense. After a few seconds, he is able to find his voice again. 

“H-How long have you been… watching me…?” 

She chuckles. “Months? Years? Time is a mere blink for me. You were a treasure that was not being appreciated. I merely rectified that insult,” Perhaps he is deserving of knowing more, she muses, and opts to keep going, “When I threatened your nation’s capital, it was done so I could strike appropriate fear and reverence in your people. But I also did it so I could specifically demand you for tribute when I spoke to your mother. My immediate goal was to have you. I have read that women usually ask the mothers before they collar a man, and to wait for a man to acclimate before she beds him. I thought it entertaining to dabble in your customs for a moment.”

More owlish blinking, and his hands no longer tremble. Indeed, waiting a few days before a deflowering is primarily a human custom she had adopted not long ago. Her taking Adonis had been the result of her playing with different types of traditions to merely amuse herself— and living as long as her kind does, she very often needs to find new ways to amuse herself— but she knows she has become… invested, in a way. 

For a brief second, she wonders if bedding him might have been a mistake, but quickly banishes the thought.

There were times she’d spend the entire day watching him from her mountain. Adonis has been with her longer than any male and despite it only being days and with his recent eccentricities, Freyja is coming to the gradual understanding of why some humans mate for life.

It is quite thrilling in itself to have consistent company. 

And she means every word she says, whether Adonis believes her… well, she’ll just keep saying it until he lets go of his fears. Dragons are not the type to give up easily, least of all _her._

“Human that you are, your beauty transcends my greatest musings. The sheer fact that you are alive right now is proof of your worth, pet. Do not forget that. Remember it is in a dragon’s nature to collect treasure,” She lowers her voice, and noting how his pupils dilate and his heart _finally_ begins to beat differently, she toys with his lower lip with her thumb. “And I have already said you are the greatest treasure I have in my possession.”

A noticeable moistness fills his eyes, but these tears are different.

But there is still a turbulence in his mind. This will be enough for now.

Well, this and him getting himself cleaned. When she stands, she grabs his bicep to force him to stand. He makes a small noise, which then begins a louder squeak of surprise when she then hooks one of her arms under the back of his thighs while her other supports his back. His body does tense when she lifts him from the ground, though as she walks it gradually subsides.

His heart beats in a similar manner of when she first spoke to him.

“You’re filthy. You must bathe,” she says. After a pause, she adds, “And clearly you need time to ruminate as well. You needn’t say anything right now.”

And he doesn’t. Adonis remains silent the entire time she carries him to the baths.

* * *

Soaking in this heated water, feeling it hug every inch of skin so gently, breathing in the aroma of lavender… Adonis breathes in deeply and slowly allows his inner peace to return. He’s probably wrinkly as a prune at this point but he supposes Freyja was right when she mentioned baths making him more… sound of mind.

He didn’t even realize she had soaps for bubble bath. Is she really as particular for her treasury as she claims to be? Maybe this is really special and rare soap, if those even exist. Not for the first time does he find himself wondering how she drains this bath and gets new, clean water. But, well, she did mention something about the drow being good architects. 

...Though thinking about plumbing of a cave can only distract him for so long from the matter at hand.

He can’t believe she watched him and specifically asked for him as tribute… He refuses to believe it... but… a treasure who wasn’t being given the proper attention… aah… oh man. Oh man, oh man, oh man.

_This is bad. This is really, really, really bad._

He shouldn’t feel this way. He doesn’t feel any sort of way. He had just disgraced himself by both pointlessly running off somewhere and soiling himself. Why did he touch himself? Why did he further debase himself? _Stupid harlot._

Adonis is disgusted. Absolutely disgusted, but there are no distressing sensations of insects crawling in his skin anymore. Instead the water keeps him warm. Comfortable in some sick, twisted way. Oh, he is such a mess. It really is no wonder he was given as a sacrifice. He was only ever a symbol of his mother’s infidelity to his father. He couldn’t even do his mother the favour of being born a girl. Of course they’d throw him away.

_“The sheer fact that you are alive right now is proof of your worth, pet.”_

Shaking hands rise from the water and pinches the bridge of his nose as he heaves a long sigh. No one had ever said something like that to him before. What is his worth? What? The confusion comes over him in waves once more, and another phrase echoes in his head again, one that makes his entire body begin to shake. But out of fear? Disgust? _Longing?_ He does not know.

_“My treasure.”_

He still doesn’t trust her. At least he doesn’t think he does. How could he, after everything? 

But this dragon instead feeds him… sure, there is the caveat of being her literal pet, and he is unsure of how long she would be content of actually keeping him… 

_I really shouldn’t be thinking this. She’s a dragon. She made me into a servant. Really, I’m no better than sex slave, right? This is gross. Improper._

All she did when he ran was put him in a bath. Was there a part of him hoping she would smack on the rear again like when he tried to climb the cave walls? He wouldn’t be surprised, and though makes him smile self-deprecatingly. 

Adonis slips down in the water to fully submerge himself in hopes of further clearing his mind. 

For now, if anything, he remains alive. He doesn’t know where to go from here. He can’t go home. He doubts his family would be welcoming. Is his only option truly just to remain being debauched by a dragon?

No— he mustn’t think of the pleasure from his body. It’s… awful…? Yes, it is, isn’t it?

He shakes his head under the water, banishing any further thoughts regarding that. It’s the very last thing he wishes to think about right now. 

And so, he decides that at the very least, for as long as Freyja seems to find him entertaining he can try to tolerate everything… It’s not as though he has much else to do. Perhaps he should at least… embrace this new lifestyle. Truly and fully. No matter how hard it may be. It will certainly make everything easier. The damnable things she does… And the things he himself does… Terrible, really. It’s all— _ugh._

He’s just going to stop thinking! He’s had enough for one day! He’s exhausted!!

_“I thought it entertaining to dabble in your customs for a moment.”_

Is it really so simple that everything that’s happened is a dragon’s interpretation of human courting…? Oh god, what does that mean…?

_No! Stop thinking already!!_

His mind harkens back to comparing her to a lonely child looking for validation.

Frustrated at his decided lack of _not_ thinking, Adonis suddenly lifts his head above the water, chest heaving. He wipes his hair from his eyes, leaning back and sighing again.

It’s been a long day. And he thinks it’s just going to get longer.

* * *

Mercifully, the next few days pass without incident, though there is certainly a strange sort of tension in the air. Adonis continues busying himself with his chores, eventually making some actual progress in organizing and cleaning the treasury. At least he can feel some sense of achievement from getting something done, he muses. 

It takes his mind off everything else, and for that he’s thankful. Even though he has no idea how to… deal with Freyja. She has mostly remained silent, or outright absent, though she always returns to have him sleep in her claws when it is nightfall.

And it’s taken three full days for stubborn shame to dwindle enough that he can actually feel comfortable in his own skin for the entirety of the day now. He wonders if it’ll return to being an insufferably intense feeling should Freyja decide to bed him again. It makes him nervous.

Adonis finishes wiping down a layer of dust that had settled on a large table that seems to be made of ivory and birch. Freyja is not present to tell him where it’s from, but considering its rough style he assumes it’s from the orcs. Soon he finds himself mostly mulling around. He had spent the day doing cleaning. He isn’t sure what time it is, but he wants to think he’s done more than enough for a single day.

And whenever he deems it fine to have some free time, he idly looks around the treasury, taking note of items of interest. Soon his eyes fall on the balalaika. A simple instrument, but one entrenched in his people’s culture. This one is decorated with an intricate rose pattern on the triangular body, and two horse heads are carved into the peghead. Clearly an instrument that belonged to someone prominent and wealthy, but well… Of course Freyja wouldn’t take just any balalaika.

He picks it up, fingers experimentally going over the strings but not plucking it or producing a sound. Given its size, he knows that it’s a secunda style balalaika, and its weight almost feels… natural in his hands, despite him having never played the thing before.

He’s about to actually try to make a sound and preparing himself for how awful he’s about to play this instrument when he hears a distinctive _chirp._ It comes in bursts, stopping for a moment, before restarting. Along with the noise he hears the telltale sound of fluttering.

Blinking, Adonis turns around, then looks up to see a small blue bird with a white underbelly. It flies, seeming unsure of where to go, before landing on a cupboard. It chirps and apparently unsatisfied with where it just landed, as it flaps its wings again and flies, this time it goes where it came. Its chirps echo in the cave, soon disappearing as Adonis can only assume it found the entrance of the cave and left.

His fingers twitch against the strings of balalaika. There was something in that that almost entices him to follow the bird. Probably because this is the first time he actually saw other creatures in the cave, even if clearly the bird didn’t really mean to come in here.

...He had never really thought about going to the entrance. But clearly it’s open, surely? Does Freyja ever actually close it?

Should he just… go there?

Somehow, the thought of escaping doesn’t cross his mind. Freyja is far too good at smelling him out, anyway. And yet, he goes anyway, his legs moving before he can seriously think of anything. It’s something different. Something _new._ Perhaps this is merely his curiosity getting the best of him.

Ah, is this… a _thrill?_

The closer he gets, the more chirping he begins to hear. A cacophony of different sounds and trills, and he can tell there’s more than one type of bird hanging around the entrance. But why? What could possibly bring them all here—

Adonis nearly drops the balalaika he didn’t realize he’s still holding when he sees Freyja.

Except she’s in her gigantic bestial form, lying down just outside the cave. A strike of unease briefly hits him, and he tiptoes closer, as if she can’t actually hear him despite him knowing otherwise. He swallows thickly, seeing that her eyes are closed though her head is held high.

Her red scales gleams in the sunlight, and a low thrumming came from her throat and nostrils as she breathed. Her tail is coiled around her and her wings— absolutely _massive_ , laden with old scars and leathery like a bat’s— are slightly outstretched, likely to take in the sun. 

With teeth as sharp and cold as icicles they could rip through amour. Her tail is hard as rock and could likely go through a castle wall as if it was no more than a toy. With her tongue she could smell one’s dread and taste fear. Freyja clearly holds quite a lot of wisdom and, yet she expresses an unspeakable greed with a hunger for treasure she apparently can not satiate.

Yet.

Yet as Adonis looked at her, this beast, napping in the sunlight, with birds perched upon her horns, he does not feel the fear and disgust he knows he should. He purses his lips together in a thin line. Instead he feels a sense of uncertainty, a feeling which he is then promptly taken out of when a light breeze touches his face.

  
And there it was, everything that ever mattered to him, a woven tapestry of buildings of Dacroustein below. He can feel his throat immediately become parched when he spots his tower, looking so small despite it having been his entire world. It’s right there. His home is right… there? It seems so close, yet impossibly far. 

It makes his chest feel heavy.

Adonis’ silver eyes opens wide as he stares off further into the distance. He allows his gaze to wander along the small brown hills and valleys, following creek beds and green trees. His eyes traces the line of the horizon and pauses on the broad set of other mountains towering above it. The jagged peaks of the snow-capped mountains makes him part his lips slightly. _Ah… ah._

This place… It’s so beautiful. It makes Adonis feel something deep within. It leaves him quite literally breathless as he continues to look at everything _except_ for Dacroustein. All the paintings he’s ever seen could never match the sight of these vistas. The heaviness in his chest lessens considerably, and he doesn’t know what to make of that.

“Will you play, or did you bring the balalaika for show?”

Her voice should make his shoulders jump, but it doesn’t, not when he turns his head to see at least five birds still sitting on her horns. Somehow, the sight makes everything seem… just a tad bit easier. There seems to be restraint in her voice, too, though he is unsure if he imagined it, or if it has to do with her current form.

“So you can speak in this form, too…” He mumbles to himself, eyes quickly flicking down to the balalaika as he shifts on his feet as his toes curl. Her voice is deeper in this form. “I, uh, was going to play, but I got curious when I heard the birds.” Adonis blinks when he returns to looking at the birds. Some are plump and brightly coloured, while others are more plain looking, and they all look content despite being on top of the head of a beast that could have them for a snack. 

His thoughts must show on his face, because Freyja speaks.

“Birds are quite useful in taking care of any irritating parasites that believe they can simply embed themselves in my scales.” Her wings spread slightly wider, making a shadow cast over Adonis, “They clean wounds, as well. Useful for whenever I do not use a bath. I am fond of their presence.”

So, dragons _can_ live in harmony with other species, apparently. Part of that seems unbelievable, but the reality is merely sitting in front of him. He returns to looking at the birds— Adonis had stared at Freyja’s teeth and tongue when she was speaking— and he feels his lips twitch upwards. 

He’s glad that she doesn’t eat birds. He likes that he can see these little fellas sitting on her horns.

It’s also the closest he’s ever been to a bird, he thinks.

“I have many books about the animals of this land.” Freyja comments, and while he isn’t sure if dragons can smile in this form, he’s pretty sure she is, “Go on, play the balalaika, pet. It would be pointless to bring such an instrument and then do nothing with it.”

Her eyes return to being closed. Adonis wets his lips, goosebumps forming on his skin from another light breeze of wind. God, his lack of clothes does not lend itself to being far up a mountain, but luckily not far enough to be on a snow-capped peak. There’s dirt, grass and trees here. He clears his throat out of nervousness, and his fingers begin moving over the strings.

It’s certainly not much of a serenade. Having absolutely no experience in this type of instrument means the sounds he makes awkward and with no rhythm. It’s mostly just him trying to pluck at the strings and to get a general feeling of the balalaika, in hopes of getting steadier when playing it. 

Obviously he’ll need more time to get anything resembling a song out of this, but the sounds… even if they are disjointed, are sounds he remembers well from when his siblings would play. High-pitched and almost like a bell, the familiarity feels… comforting, in a way.

Freyja’s eyes open.

“You had said your playing would sound like an animal in the throes of death. It was nothing of the sort.” She stands then, the birds flying away in the process, and she stretches languidly like a cat. “It was an agreeable sound.”

Freyja cracks her neck when she is finishing stretching, looking down on him with those sharp, serpentine eyes. After a moment, she snorts. At least, Adonis thinks it’s a snort, though a puff of smoke comes out of her nostrils.

“So you have finally regained all your senses, have you? Good.” She says, and before he can even entertain the idea of feeling insulted, she lowers herself to her elbows, one of her wings flattening and looking like a ramp leading to her back. “Come. I have tired from having my actions questioned. I will show you I am true to my word once and for all. You are fortunate that the absurdity of what you did four days ago has not insulted me.”

At being reminded of his state of disarray, a redness forms on his cheeks and he coughs awkwardly, brows furrowed in both apprehension and agitation. He can admit what he did was absurd, but to have _her_ of all people to confirm it? That’s even more absurd!

Adonis averts his gaze. “What are you going to do?”

There’s another thrumming noise, but this one more gravelly sounding and heavier. A chuckle, he realizes. 

“My. To think I would see you pout in such a way. How lovely.”

Whatever response he hopes to vocalize turns into a strangled noise, the heat on his face becoming searing. Before he can even mull over what she just said, or even go on another tangent about what he _should_ be feeling but isn’t, Freyja’s voice invades his head again.

“I have countless treasuries strewn across this land. It is time to stay at another. Come, sit on my back. I won’t say it again.”

Instinctively, Adonis looks down at the balalaika, and Freyja understands his silent question.

“I shall hold it in my claws.”

His mouth quickly becomes agape, “But you said you always break these!”

A beat of silence. The exclamation had burst out of him on its own, and while there is a quick jump in his heart, there is instead another chuckle from Freyja.

“It will be fine. I am much more careful in this form. After all, I carried you without injury.” 

Part of them is suspicious about the statement of her being more ‘careful’ in a gigantic bestial form, but Adonis is also well aware he can’t really argue with a dragon. With a reluctant side-glance, he places the balalaika on her open palm. His hesitancy does not abate when he tiptoes on the wings, the implications of her statement _‘It is time to stay at another’_ not quite cementing his mind just yet. Her wings, though leathery looking, evidently can hold his weight as it remains steady beneath him.

Walking up it is an awkward affair, and while he slips once, he eventually manages to be perched upon her back. Adonis has to regain his balance when she stands, heart racing, and then his mind finally catches up with him.

_Wait… Hold on a second… is she—_

Freyja turns her massive head to look at him, eyes narrowing. There is something… mischievous in the gleam of her slit pupils. She then says something painfully familiar, though it’s slightly tweaked this time.

“Do accept my generosity with grace, pet.”

The second the words leave her mouth she spreads her wings wide and suddenly, Adonis finds himself going heavenward _very_ quickly. The breath is promptly knocked out of his lungs, and he thinks he blacks out before realizing his eyes are tightly shut.

His breathing then comes in sputtering gasps, eyes still wrenched closed, hands so tightly gripped on some scales it begins to hurt. The beat of her wings is deafening, completely shattering his every thought. Tension grows in Adonis’ face and limbs as his ribs heave as if bound by ropes.

When his mind is eventually cleared enough for him to think again, only one thing crosses his mind.

_Oh god, is_ this _how I die?! Seriously?!_

Then, a booming voice re-shatters his voice.

“Open your eyes, Adonis!”

He doesn’t know if it’s the authoritative tone, or the fact that it somehow sounds like the only thing that makes sense in the moment, but Adonis eyes are suddenly wide open. His heart still tries to climb out of his throat, his hands still in its bruising grip on the scales, his body still tense—

But the flight is calm now. He doesn’t know when this easy glide started, but everything is suddenly much more manageable.

And—

And he is left slack-jaw at the sight before him once more.

Everything suddenly looks so different from the mountain. How every moves so quickly beneath the two of them, and how his eyes can’t seem to focus on one thing. From the rich brown earthen hues of the forest ground to the sweetness of the blue-white sky, Adonis stares at everything with quickly growing awe. He swivels his head back in an attempt to see Dacroustein, but he can’t see it from the trees and lakes and everything in between.

A breeze grazes over him, his disheveled hair flying in different directions, and his face veil had flown off at some point. The chain of his collar rattles behind him. Unlike when he was on the mountain, he initially thinks the sunlight keeps him warm— but, _ah,_ it isn’t the sun at all. Rather, it is Freyja’s own heat that envelopes him, seemingly shielding him from shivers.

Her wings still beats, but the sound is softer now. He even manages to hear the birds, some of which fly with them for a moment for swooping down and disappearing in the trees. Every sight of their plumage makes him gasp in delight as they flutter around, never failing to make him think that they’re doing their own form of ballet with the sky as their backdrop.

And— And it’s like trees and water is their orchestra, playing one enchanting symphony after another and the water that flows quietly until it meets the sharp rocky scree slopes; a melody without a rhythm, music without sound.

He wants to play the balalaika while surrounding melodies of nature.

Adonis has never felt such a surge of emotion before. He’s so thoroughly, utterly, completely overwhelmed, even more so than when he genuinely believed he was going to die. It takes him several minutes for the new information to sink in, even though it is right before his eyes, larger than life. Then he feels his lips stretch wider into a gaping grin and his eyebrows arch for the sky.

“Holy…” His voice is breathless and excited, and he repeats a phrase he had heard from a guard before. A phrase his father would no doubt disapprove of, but right now in this moment, he just doesn’t _care._

“Holy shit!”

There’s more thrumming, another chuckle, but Adonis is too busy taking in the astounding and staggering sights that his eyes continue to gleefully eat up. When they fly over a field, that is the most bonny of green blankets graced with clover, and he spots sheep running under them, a set of laughter bubbles out of him. He can’t stop, nor does he even _think_ about stopping it. Everything in the past— forgotten in this blissful flight he wants to last forever.

Soon, he’s spreading his arms wide and while still breathless he hollers out a series of enthusiastic _‘woohoo!’s._

And the entire time he does so, there is a gravelly thrumming coming from Freyja.

* * *

Much to his delight, his— er, _the_ balalaika is unharmed.

Adonis had to tightly shut his eyes and tightly hold on again when Freyja swooped down suddenly to enter a cave. This one is not in a mountain, instead it is ground level. Well, water level, seeing how this a sea cave— he hadn’t gotten the chance to see the beaches since the entrance only leads to sparkling blue water. Luckily, for his sake, the cave itself actually has solid ground further in. When he slid off Freyja's wing, he was already thinking about going where the water starts, it’s so _blue_ and _bright_ and _will he be able to see any fish?!_

With the balalaika in his hands, Adonis turns his head to spot glimmers of gold. Another treasury filled with things he could only ever dreamed of. Where even is he right now? Surely this is a Dacroustein beach, but maybe he’s been taken outside the country? Oooh, such a thought makes his skin tingle with goosebumps. Is it fear? Nervousness? Anticipation?

Or is he actually cold?

With a slight shiver, he realizes he’s mostly just cold. Perhaps it’s because of the cave’s proximity to the sea, or because Freyja hasn’t been here for some time— seriously, how did he warm the other treasury?— but regardless he finds himself rubbing his arms to gain some warmth. Though it’s a bit awkward considering the instrument still in his hands. 

An instrument he nearly drops again when a coat is thrown on top him.

The coat is blue like a midwinter night an hour before pitch dark; that colour one sees as velvet no matter what the texture is. It’s exquisitely soft, warm to the touch, and reaches his ankles.

“This garment is made of the furs of the Roksana, a particularly woolly mammal found further north. I have been told it is enchanted and grants the wearer protection against every climate, keeping you warm and dry with an unseen magical force. Self-cleaning, as well. Naturally I never had a need for it.”

Adonis blinks. It’s a usual tidbit of her giving him information, but it does contain that sense of zeal and almost over excitement as usual. And, now that Freyja is in her human-like form, he purses his lips and looks downward. Ah. What a life he leads that a dragon actually looking like a dragon allows him to remain calmer than the current sight of her. 

A sound of disapproval forces him to look back up at her. 

“Is your excitement gone already? Why must you humans do nothing but confound me? I have taken you to another treasury! A permanent smile should be plastered upon your features!” She points behind her with her thumb, “This one has a library of all the knowledge your little head could possibly ever think of. It is so vast that you will never be able read everything within your lifetime!”

He doesn’t really think about his reply. The words come out of his mouth almost instantaneously. 

“Isn’t it dangerous to have a library so close to the ocean?” He asks incredulously.

A beat of silence. Oh, wait, this is exactly when he expressed his worry with the balalaika, isn’t it? When did he become such a backtalker?! Ah, when they say men misbehave more often after they’ve been deflowered, they were right! _Argh!_

Maybe he’s making a funny face over mulling over something he _knows_ is silly, because Freyja throws her head back after a moment, barking out a single, loud laugh.

“Hah!” She waves him off, “Enchantments protect them from damage, too, pet. I have a book about it. Perhaps you should read it.”

His lips part in a small _o,_ and the adrenaline slowly subsides. His skin still tingles, something separate from the goosebumps, from the flight. It was almost like he was floating and he wonders if that was how freedom tasted like. If he weren’t currently holding a balalaika he’d be pinching himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming vividly. He’d probably be pinching himself quite a lot, making small welts cover these scratches that still mire his skin.

_Ah. Ah._ His mind is becoming a whirlwind again. Before long he’s probably going to chastise himself for liking anything again. Everything surprises him. That's the bonus of having low expectations, and living in a tower, he muses ruefully. But— But the _excitement…_ Playing the balalaika, the flight, somewhere new and he doesn’t even know where this place is—

And all the… incredible information finally settles in his mind. Everything seemed to rush at him all at once, it seemed to spin and swirl about his legs that shake under the coat, and he practically gasps out his next words. 

“You… actually took me to another treasury. To somewhere else.”

“I have countless treasuries strewn across the land.” There’s a hint of the usual pride in her words he typically hears creeping in her words again, “I have mentioned this before, have I not? Have I not already told you that I would take you to one that holds a library, for instance? Should I be concerned about how information is apparently not retained in your head?”

Adonis’ cheeks flush, and he chews on his lip nervously. Perhaps it would be best to simply tell the truth of the matter.

“I... thought you were gonna keep me in that cave forever…” He says carefully, “That you were, um, mocking me when you spoke about things in your treasury… Like you were dangling all these amazing things in front of me that I could never reach or experience because I would be kept in the cave…”

Like he was staring at the snow falling outside his tower window again. So close, yet so far, but never truly experienced.

Freyja, with a single raised brow, purses her lips, and slightly narrows her eyes— _Uh oh._ That’s a decidedly unimpressed look if he’s ever seen it. Adonis instinctively hunches his shoulders.

“Human women take men away from their homes to give them _new_ homes on a near constant basis. It is expectant of your species. It is your mating ritual! And yet, when _I_ engage in your customs, following your silly rules most precisely, I instead am subject to constant suspicion regarding my actions! Unbelievable!”

She huffs in indignant exasperation, an action that makes him part his lips slightly again. Oh. This is new. She always seems so in control of everything but he actually seems to have genuinely perplexed her and for the briefest of seconds he dumbfoundedly thinks _oh that’s actually kind of cute_ though it’s immediately replaced by the sudden realization that hits him like a falling boulder.

_Wait... mating ritual, customs, watching me…? Has she really been trying to court me this entire time…?!?_

Adonis has a sudden coughing fit— that sounds _suspiciously_ like he is stifling a laugh— as an all too familiar searing heat assaults his face. The blush goes down his neck and creeps down his shoulders. When he regains some control over himself, he has to set the balalaika down on the cave wall so his hands are free to cover his mouth. Words he had thought to himself before repeat in his mind again.

_This is bad. This is really, really, really bad._

_Stupid harlot._

And yet, despite the warnings and scurrility, his face is the complete opposite of what his thoughts might imply. Because from behind his hands, a wide, probably delirious smile is forming.

Adonis knows at this point that Freyja is capable of hearing his heartbeat, and smelling… certain emotions. No doubt that’s what she is doing right now as she appraises him. He thinks that he feels a little like a cornered animal again and that… That makes his skin tingle again.

His mind and body wants two different things. He knows that.

And like when she deflowered him, his body to win again. His thoughts are soon drowned out, and he allows himself to actually feel happy about the situation. A weight seems to be lifted from his shoulders.

Whether Freyja notices the change, he isn’t sure, but there is a twitch in her expression that he almost misses. She then sits down on a rock, cross-legged. Her foot flexes and her expression looks as though she is challenging him. Or at least prodding, like she’s testing out a hypothesis.

“I find myself tired. Do not forget what one of your duties are.” She says cryptically, and Adonis quickly realizes what she wants him to do when she flexes her foot again. 

He nods. “Oh, um, yes.” His blush remains when he kneels in front of her to begin kneading her foot. He can hear his heart ringing in his ears, and he thinks he might still feel a sense of giddiness when he can feel her gaze on him. He’s coming to an understanding of things. Sort of. 

Maybe Freyja isn’t _as_ scary as he thought she was.

Adonis presses down on her heel and then massages her sole. Her scales are warm to the touch. He wonders if dragons are warm because they can breathe fire. 

“Um…” he murmurs, keeping his eyes on her foot, “The flight… it was… thrilling. Thank you.” 

It feels like he is admitting to something dirty. 

It kind of excites him.

“Hmph.” Is Freyja’s gruff, and initially that is the only thing she does. But later, when he switches to another foot, he hears her voice softer than he’s ever heard before.

“You are welcome.”

And that night, when he sleeps within her claws, he slumbers more soundly than ever before.

* * *

It would appear some of her walls her pet likes to put up has been chipped, if not outright broken as another week passes. Good. It was beginning to become grating. An understanding has been formed between the two of them and Freyja feels satisfied that the realization that she is true to her word has finally dawned on him. She can return to teaching him how to truly _live_ and embrace new pleasures, and she… she can indulge in his companionship.

Normalcy seems to have returned to them, as in she can take joy in departing her great knowledge unto Adonis when he cleans again. Whenever he picks up something, she will discuss it. Seeing how this treasury primarily acts as a library, she finds him dusting the many shelves. 

The bookcases with its inky treasures adorned the quiet chamber, quiet in that sense of easy solitude and in the sense of gentle seaside hues, soft blues, greys and browns; as well as the sounds of the water further down the cave. The wood of the bookcases look as though they washed up ashore on the beach one day— which they did. They are made of wood of an old pirate ship she thought too ugly to be in her gaze, so she destroyed it.

_“The Songs of Salko,”_ Freyja comments when he picks up the book in question, “The exploits of a tiny dwarf and her victories. Quite the piece of amusing propaganda, written much later and collected from local legends about her. I would call her eventually proclaimed godhood drivel if the passages of the book did not entertain me so thoroughly.”

Except this time, the conversation is no longer one-sided.

Because Adonis has clearly read his books, and his childish excitement is barely containable.

“To think I would hold a text this old in my hands! I’m amazed it doesn’t just crumble in my hands— But I guess that’s the perks of enchantment. The detailing of the centuries of succession of several genealogies of heros and deities…! And the illustrations! Just incredible!” 

Perhaps if he were never put in that tower he may have become a scholar. 

“Do you think dwarves still exist? They say they went extinct when they reached the center of the world, cracking open the core and unleashing magic into the world. If they went so far underground don’t you think it’s just we haven’t found them yet? How do you get to the center of the world anyway? Is that possible? Maybe this story is a myth?”

Frejya’s lips twitch upwards. To think the only thing she needed for this man was a series of books. She waves her hand, her voice haughty. “If they exist, naturally I will be the one to find them. Some of these scripture of treasure unlike the world has ever seen. Perhaps the center of the world will make the grandest space for a treasury. It is only appropriate that I make such a thing mine, as well.”

As far as she is concerned, the stories are fiction. Freyja’s grin grows at the thought of scholars from the world over writing about their exploits. She’s already ruminating over threats of dismemberment should they dare write anything unflattering.

“If you get to the center of the world,” Adonis shifts on his feet, eyes fluttering bashfully as he avoids looking at her directly by staring at the book still in his hands, “I wonder what it would be like.”

“You would be incinerated. That is how the dwarves apparently perished.”

The gasp that escapes him is a scandalous one, and she continues. “Of course, _I_ would never experience the same fate. I was born from flame! My scales cannot be harmed from heat! The center of the world will be nothing but a warm bath for me.”

She takes a step forward, eyes narrowing playfully and relishing in the skip in her pet’s heartbeat. Aha, back to normal indeed. As it should be and shall remain as far as she is concerned.

“Humans are fragile. They break very easily. I will not risk having your flesh burn off from your bones by foolishly taking you to such a place should I decide to grace the core with my presence.”

She is rewarded with the reaction she both expects and desire— another one of those blushes. Strange how a man can both confound her one moment, and be exceptionally predictable the next. How lovely.

And it is a blush that only further deepens when he takes another book out from its shelf in order to clean the bookcase.

“Oho?” Freyja flashes her teeth. This one is a favourite of hers. _“Confessions of a Royal Advisor,_ hmm? Could my pet who had been overcome by an indescribable fear of pleasure a mere two weeks prior be indulging in such salacious reading material?”

He awkwardly clears his throat, quickly returning the book to the shelf after doing some dusting. “U-Uh… I couldn’t really finish this one… Some of the things mentioned are… something else.”

A perfect opportunity if she’s ever seen, and Freyja has always been the type to take them as they come. Especially when served on a platter in front of her like this.

Another step forward and she quickly intrudes on her pet’s personal space, and there is a quick inhale of breath from him. Freyja looks down at him, suppressing a cackle at how his mind is obviously beginning to become hazy from whatever debauched thoughts he is having.

“Did you know,” she says in a husky tone, “That this book destroyed five royal marriages, sparked a war, and cost two princesses their thrones?” She leans down, voice tickling the shell of his ear. Freyja is well aware about how her breasts being so close to his face must be affecting his ability to think a coherent thought. “To think, all that because some members of human royalty enjoyed indulging in a few orgies here and there.”

Another clearing of his throat. Freyja decides to pounce on it.

“You know what an orgy is, don’t you, pet?”

That seems to break the apparent spell that was cast on him, as he takes several steps back before the bookcase stops him. He poignantly tugs at the collar of his coat. “U-U-Uh, yeah, I know. The book was very… specific.” 

“Perhaps I shall have you indulge in one in due time,” a look of pure horror flickers on his expression and she snorts, “But before that, you must become more experienced in certain… arts.”

By this point her smile practically reaches her ears. They had not indulged in such pleasures for the week they have been in this treasury— pure torture for her, truly!— and a low heat forms on her lower belly. 

“Open your mouth, pet. I should kiss you again. Do be grateful.”

She smells the lust flowing through him, and watches how his pupils dilate. All good things she expects, but if he’s going to run off again she’s going to be _very_ annoyed.

“I…” he starts, then his face, while still bright red, is laced with suspicion. “I can’t believe you would know what an orgy is and… take so many men to your bed, and _not_ know what a kiss is…”

She quirks a brow, giddiness filling her. _Finally._

“How truly endearing that you found it in your to say such a thing. Am I to expect that this a tempting act of yours, my pet? What _is_ a kiss if not the exchange of saliva?”

“But— It’s not— not like _that_.”

“Then what is it like? Could my pet have knowledge I am not privy to? How exciting. You must show me what you know.”

The mirth in her voice is very clearly evident, as he scrunches his face in a pout.

“Oh, _n-now_ I know you’re definitely mocking me this time! You absolutely know what a kiss is! You’re just making fun of me!”

“Teasing, not mocking,” she amends with a smirk, despite that she is not quite fond of the term ‘mocking’ any longer once she was made of aware of his issue with the term, “Go on, pet, you may as well show me what you know about kissing. I wish for you to use your lips on me.”

There is a brief look of uncertainty, but then there is a hint of resolution. His hands flex, and his small steps forward are most entertaining to watch. Yes, this is the right way to reintroduce pleasures of the flesh to him after that little fallout. 

Truthfully, she never once considered she’d ever be this patient with a human, much less a man. Ah, her magnanimity truly knows no bounds.

Him needing to go to his tiptoes to reach her lips is an especially lovely sight. He closes his eyes shyly, and soon his lips brush hers. There is… a _spark_ that goes straight to her core that surprises even her. Her hands tense almost instinctively, and yet, it becomes nothing more than a simple brush of the lips, his inexperience very evident in how chaste it is.

That is, until her hand tightly entangles itself in the hair on the back of his head— his small noise of surprise sounding particularly delectable— and she coaxes her tongue to delve into his mouth. The taste is finer than even his tears and blood, somehow. Their lips fit perfectly, just how she imagined when she had watched him in the tower, and there is indeed a… thorough exchange of saliva by the time she parts from him.

Adonis is panting heavily, a string of drool going down his chin, and his legs wobble as if he is already melting in her embrace. His expression is reminiscent of when she first took him, and the hand in his hair tightens its grip. 

“Ah...haah…” he breathes out, “That… was certainly one way to do it…”

An arrogant smile forms on her lips when she steps back, and Adonis has to regain his balance after no longer having her body to lean in for support. How easier things would have been if he had merely embraced his true nature from the start.

“I have cleared out a space in another chamber. I wish to see you dance now, pet.”

At that, he blinks.

“It would be such a shame to forget that dance of yours. Ballet, was it? It’s quite graceful. Perhaps I can _join_ you. It will emulate an orgy. You may not have read this, but they often hire male dancers of similar beauty to you to entertain the royalty.”

At _that,_ he chokes on his words. “I— uh, yeah— sure… It might be a little stiff without my shoes...”

There is clearly no thought put into his response. She doubts he is even aware of his own vocalizations. It makes Freyja chuckle darkly as she leads him to the space in question. Truthfully, she had planned this out of a genuine desire to watch him dance in the first place. 

Adonis, likely out of muscle memory and habit, has movements that flow with a dazzling grace despite his initial fumbling. His entire being moves with a purposeful clarity, and yet it is both demure and submissive. _Of course,_ Freyja would join in after a scant few minutes. How could one not when such a dance is so very tempting? How his body turn as if it is begging for her to touch him?

It does not actually lead to sex. His body still tenses in a way she is not fond of. Adonis dances, and she instead touches him. She touches him frequently and greedily. Hands caressing his form, groping every inch, feeling his sweat and smelling him. She is gentle, and does not break his skin. Though at her every touch he fumbles, confused, anxious, and desperately growing aroused. The sight of him sends a jolt of sensation between her legs. Just the way she likes it.

Yes. Reintroducing pleasures of the flesh. She’s simply going _slow_ and _steady._ Just like how she read in those human scriptures detailing how to take care of one’s man.

And Freyja is merely giving him the attention that he is long overdue.

Lots and _lots_ of attention.

* * *

He thinks he could get used to this. The endless books and treasures, how he is permitted to walk on the sandy beaches, and continue to ride Freyja in her bestial form. Adonis stretches languidly, another day means another session of cleaning, but he thinks he’s done what he can for the day. Freyja is currently taking a nap, and for the first time she takes it without him essentially trapped in her claws. 

Does she trust him not to run away? Well, trying to do so would need him to swim across an ocean. Ah yes, let’s just swim across that massive body of water. That certainly will not go poorly. 

He ignores how the desire to escape has dwindled significantly, like a snuffed out flame on a candle. Even if she’s made a habit of groping him every chance she gets now.

He might like that, though.

Adonis looks at his feet as he walks towards the dock built at the entrance of the cave. He may as well watch the sunset, maybe even catch a sight of a whale in the far distance. When Freyja had flown in here he thought about since there is a pier, and the entrance is obviously quite large, that an entire ship could be docked there. He had wondered about how the great Freyja, this hoarder of all things expensive and shiny, didn’t have a ship—

Oh, wait, she does.

He blinks.

_Huh?_

A large sailing ship made of oak with rusted chains and paint peeling and blistering like a bad sunburn. On the bow of the ship is a figurehead sculpted in the shape of a merman with a spear. The masts are white, some with holes, and the largest one has the clear image of a skull and crossbones. It certainly looks like something that would frighteningly appear suddenly and unexpectedly on dangerous, foggy waters…

It doesn’t take long for him to realize that this is not actually part of Freyja’s treasury.

Because there are people climbing off it. His gaze immediately focuses on two human women with tanned, muscular skin that clearly tells him that they’ve spent multiple days out on sea far, far away. Their hair is unkempt and their clothes bedraggled. There’s an elf among them that looks similarly disheveled. 

It’s only when he sees who is obviously their leader does he regain the sense to begin taking several steps backwards. An orc. Her massive size dwarfs everyone else, her clothes just barely able to cover her rippling muscle without tearing, and she has a black tricorn hat on top of her head. Her mane of obsidian black hair appears to have several knots in them though she doesn’t seem to care, not when she grins wolfishly at the sight of him.

Adonis nearly slips when he takes another set of hasty steps back, body and mind telling him to hurry up and run. He can’t hide the whimper of fear that comes out of him, eyes wide and hands trembling.

A hand is placed on his shoulder and he feels a body now pressed upon his back, and instead of practically jumping out of his skin, he moves as if being controlled by a puppeteer. He doesn’t even think about it, merely driven by a sudden survival instinct and the need to feel any semblance of safety— because he knows who this is.

He quickly moves behind Freyja, who lets out a single laugh.

“I had smelled that you were afraid, and it was decidedly not because of me. I simply had to seek you out, only to find you poorly greeting our guests.”

Adonis frowns, looking up at her to whisper. “You have _pirates_ as guests?”

“Of course! Anyone who wishes to traverse these waters must seek my permission first. It is, after all, my territory,” her smirk widens, “And a tribute is naturally required.”

From behind her shoulder, Adonis takes another peek at the pirates. The orc nods towards Freyja, and there is a familiarity in how the two women greet one another. This is not the first time this captain and her crew has seeked ‘permission’ to sail this body of water.

For a moment, the orc’s gaze flicks towards him and something edacious flickers in ger dark green, predatory eyes. When she grins, her row of sharp teeth almost looks as devastating as Freyja’s. Her voice is equally as gruff as her appearance, “So, that the princelin’ everyone says you’ve munched on?”

He frowns at that, though at that moment Freyja steps aside so he isn’t hiding behind her anymore, and she wraps a muscular arm around his shoulder. 

“Indeed! Are they saying that I’ve eaten him? Such nonsense. Humans are not as delectable as they believe themselves to be. It is only the blood and tears of a virgin that are exquisite, though I’ve grown a liking to tasting his saliva, heh. I’ve since deflowered him,” Adonis feels a blush forming and he scratches his cheek, subsequently making Freyja look particularly prideful, “But I intend to keep him regardless. I do enjoy looking upon him quite fondly.”

_Fondly._ Such a simple word and she had said it so casually. A merely passing comment. And yet it makes Adonis almost instinctively put a hand over his chest as his heart beats faster and his chest begins to feel warm, not unlike all the other times she’s made his heart practically jump with flattery or generally tormenting him. 

_Torment,_ his lips twitch, _which doesn’t seem so bad anymore._

Still, something irks him.

“‘Munched on…’ Does that mean everyone back home truly believes me to be dead?” He says it while looking up at Freyja, though his question is mostly directed at the pirates. 

“Big ol’ dragon comin’ down and snatchin’ a prince?” The orc says roughly, “Fuckin’ duh it’ll be the only thing landlubbers will be yabberin’ on about for a day. Now everyone’s talkin’ about Rasmeinia gettin’ independence or some shit. Gonna be affectin’ my business.”

Adonis’ frown deepens, although he had already accepted everyone believing him to be deceased, the confirmation… stings, slightly. And to add further insult to injury, it was apparently news for only a day because Rasmeinia is more important. But of course it is. Rasmeinia has a more pertinent effect on the people and economy now that the threat of a dragon is gone. Adonis was merely a prince who seldom, if ever, engaged with the public or with the politicians in mother’s court. He doubts most of the common folk even knew who he was and it’s not as though he can really blame them for that but… _still._

He was not important. He was merely a convenient means to an end.

_For Queen and Country,_ they say. Mother said he was doing this country proud.

But why should he care about a country and its people if they never cared about him?

Maybe… Maybe it really is time for him to let that old life of his go.

And maybe one day that stubborn sense of shame can dwindle and be drowned out with something else. It may take some time, or perhaps none at all, seeing how he craves attention more than he ever could of anticipated… He’s truly enjoyed his time in this treasury. He can admit that to himself now. 

If being a harlot means playing music for a dragon, and being seated upon her back as she flies, or even having… sex with her... it might not be so terrible. Perhaps he _should_ become the harlot his father thinks he is. 

Freyja and the orc keep talking about various things, and all the while, Adonis finds himself putting his hand over Freyja’s, and leaning his head against her shoulder.

* * *

Treasures are meant to be seen. Power must be shown to the weak, or else they forget who is really in charge.

Naturally, that means Adonis must be shown as well. To display him like a pretty ornament. 

And what an ornament he is. Her attention, while certainly the most important, must not be the only one he experiences.

Freyja sees how the pirates’ eyes wash over Adonis as he stretches, now divested of his coat, and it makes her grin devilishly. She sits on a regal red and golden seat with satin cushions, and the pirates sit opposite of her on a large sofa, and finally Adonis stretches slightly to the side. The jewelry draped on his body clinks when he moves around, and eventually the orc— Sargulg— is able to rip her gaze away from his muscular and lean form when she gets to the matter at hand. 

“We got a shipment of Issipara. Is that what’s it called?” A nod from the elf answers the question and the orc continues, her voice gruff. “Made of fermented tea ‘n shrooms. Y’know, those shrooms that grow on the heads of corpses? That one. Ya know how fuckin’ hard it is to get shrooms that only grow from on a dead body?” 

The pirate captain leans in with a conspiratorial grin. Freyja flicks her eyes at Adonis who stretches his arms but is very obviously curious about the conversation at hand. She gestures for Sargulg to continue.

“Two shots of this shit would kill an elf. Four would do a human in. Maybe about 50 for an orc. Yer probably fine, bein’ a dragon ‘n all. Really knocks ya the fuck out. Gives you visions ‘n shit of the afterlife.” She shrugs, “At least, I think it was the afterlife. It’s a death shroom. So I was probably seeing death. Maybe. Saw whales in the sky ‘n shit.”

“And you believe this to be an acceptable tribute for me to allow you to sail these waters?”

Sargulg makes a brusque noise of discontent, then promptly hits one of the human pirates on the back of the head, “Quit yer fuckin’ gawkin’ already and pay attention.”

An obvious deflection in hopes Freyja isn’t insulted by that snort of a noise she just made. Freyja would call the attempt cute if she wasn’t in the midst of doing her own unabashed gawking.

“We just wanna pass these waters without ya tearin’ the ship to shreds. Ya know the drill.” Sargulg then says. Ah yes, Freyja remembers when had done just that when she first encountered them in the open waters. Her bookshelves are made of their previous ship. “Issipara is some good shit. Promise. Fuck, we got gemstones too if ya want ‘em. Alfie.”

The elf, Alfie, takes it from there. “Yes, imperial rose quartz, grey tourmaline, cardinal ruby, citrine quartz… The list goes on. We have also procured a golden octopus statue encrusted in diamonds. It, you know… Looks nice. It would look nice in your treasury, Ruler of the Skies.”

One of the humans makes a face.

“But I want to keep that fucking octopus!”

Freyja inspects her claws. “What is the value of this octopus?”

“Statue of some god from one of the port towns,” Sargulg replies, hitting the human on the back of the head again when she’s about to protest. 

“Then bring it.” Freyja commands, eyes going to the elf, “Surely you have a more detailed history. I am intrigued. I wish to know the name of this town as well. It might be entertaining to give them a visit.”

The humans are sent to retrieve the statue. The elf then goes into a spiel about the history, though admittedly Freyja doesn’t really retain the information. It is much easier to remember things when the person telling her everything is on their knees and begging for their life. Yes, she will descend upon the city when next she is bored.

Of course, this is perfect to return looking at Adonis.

Her pet is adorned with a new face veil that practically doubles as a hat, and Freyja simply must have him wear more headwear in the future. It is a golden face veil made of chain that looks like a series of coins attached together, it drapes over his nose and mouth, but it also continues above his eyes, the glistening metal crowning his head and ringing like bells every time he moves.

He does some mundane stretches. Lunges, folding his arm behind his head, touching his toes, lying on his back and lifting a leg until his knee touches his chest. The way his muscles flex with each stretch, the slow rhythmic breathing of his chest, those bashful eyes that avert his gaze whenever he makes eye contact, the thong riding up between his cheeks— now _that_ is a show in of itself, and certainly never sight she could tire of. Truly more enticing than those dancers who use a pole further down west.

It’s even a bit of a game, seeing how many times she can catch a glimpse of his hard nipples whenever his chest jewelry moves out of the way. Entertaining, indeed.

Then he does the cream of the crop of stretches— the standing split. As soon as his foot goes above his head Sargulg whistles appreciatively. His bulge becomes particularly apparent with this stretch, and Freyja licks her lips. This’ll be enough for now. She’ll end this spectacle of him having his body shamelessly shown off with the best, and she snaps her fingers to get his attention.

“Serve the platters.” She commands, and she returns her attention to the pirates. “These are dried meat of a Roksana, preserved by a coat of hardened sweet-sour syrupy shell.” It’s not a special dish. In fact it is a common enough snack worldwide. It’s simply her guests are not deserving of eating the same delicacies she gives to Adonis.

Adonis nervously presents the platter to the pirates, and as soon as the elf takes her share Freyja spots a green skinned hand getting a tad bit _too_ close and grabby towards his thigh.

“If you get any closer to him, seafarer, a swift death awaits you.”

The tension that comes from her warning is immediate, with the elf noticeably clenching her jaw, Adonis turning his head with wide, surprised eyes, and Sargulg taking her hand back but deflecting with a forced grin.

“C’mon, Freyja, why bring a barely clothed slut if ya ain’t gonna whore him out—”

She leans forward and opens her mouth, smoke billowing from her throat with an unspoken threat that gets the point across within seconds. Sargulg shuts her mouth with a grimace, taking food from the platter and biting into the meat with a palpable air of irritation. 

“Do not test my magnanimity. You will not touch him, and,” She grins, though her expression contorts into something predatory. “You will not refer to me as ‘Freyja.’ Do not assume you can be so casual with me, orc.”

Sargulg’s eye twitch, and Adonis’ own eyes seem to have a softer gleam to them now. Behind the two pirates, she spots the humans struggling to carry a large octopus statue. They hobble around, accompanied by more of Sargulg’s crewmembers who stayed in the ship. After much obvious and entertaining struggle from attempting to move an obviously heavy statue around slippery, wet rocks, they manage to present the treasure to Freyja. The women pant, red faced, and Adonis tentatively presents the platter to them while staring curiously at the shining octopus the entire time.

“Whew, this shit is heavy. And what the hell is this?” A different human she hasn’t seen before with a red bandana and brown hair lifts a brow at the food provided, but smiles from the smell of it. She takes a bite from it, her voice becoming condescending towards Adonis, “Thanks cutie, heh.”

There is a sharp inhale from Adonis as his attention from the octopus is wrenched away when the pirate’s face gets too close to his, no doubt he smells her breath when his brows knit together.

And again, Freyja spots a hand getting a bit too close to her pet. This time coming to grab his buttocks.

Though it is not her that reacts. Instead, Sargulg takes her half finished Roksana meatball and unceremoniously flings it at her crewmember. “You wanna be on this fuckin’ platter, too?”

How nice it is when even an orc becomes a fast learner. They exchange a few more jabs, some playful, some not. Before long, Sargulg commands them return to the ship, the human who had initially protested about bringing the octopus statue giving the item of worship one final forlorn look. 

Freyja doesn’t have any intention on returning it now. The statue itself is carved in such detail it looks as though it was an actual octopus that was doused in molten gold. It’s quite large, perhaps big enough to eat a human if it were an alive animal. Its shimmering diamonds reflect off other items in the treasury.

She waves her hand at Adonis, gesturing to him to serve her her own platter. Raw elk meat. The muscles in his biceps and back flex when he picks up the heavy pile of viscera, making her lick her lips. When he presents it to her, she then gestures to her lap.

“Lie down.”

His eyes quickly flick down to her thighs then back to her eyes. She can practically hear the blood rushing to his face and to his cock. “...Lie down?”

“Yes. On your stomach.”

Is it because he has an audience? Or maybe because he’s quickly coming to revel in his true nature? Regardless, she is certainly making bundles of _progress_ with him. Adonis lies down over her legs, his chest and stomach on the cushions of the sofa with his groin over her thighs. His arms are bent at the elbows to hold the platter over his head.

He looks like a more appetizing piece of meat than anything on the platter. Especially like _this—_ the perfect position to give that firm rear of his a good _hit._ She fondles the alabaster skin of his cheeks, and he wriggles his hips slightly from this groping, but he remains in place. 

She can already feel his cock twitch against her thighs. 

Freyja’s free hand takes a piece of meat and she roughly chews on it, turning her attention back to her guests as she continues to massage her pet’s buttocks.

“How long do you intend to traverse these waters?”

Sargulg shrugs, her previous annoyance having not lessened if her slight glare at Adonis’ form is anything to go by. Her frustration entertains Freyja thoroughly.

“However long we need. We got intel that Romta is gettin’ a shipment of furs enchanted with eastern magic. I dunno what eastern magic is like, but it has to be valuable. We’re gonna take that shit for ourselves.” She leans forward, arms resting on her lap, “But more importantly, there’s gonna be maps. Maps that’re supposed to lead ya to Empress Yunaesa’s tomb.”

That piques her interest. Empress Yunaesa is a famous, ancient high elf ruler who is said to be able to control the waves of the ocean. Her tomb was a closely guarded secret, but now primarily elven archaeologists are attempting to uncover it after many have called into question whether the Empress’ existed in the first place. Her tomb would hold great treasures, indeed. Perhaps new elven riches that Freyja hasn’t even seen before. 

If such a map indeed exists, she will be the one to have it in her claws. Her grip tightens on Adonis’ cheek, and he clenches beneath her palm from the sensation.

She nods at Sargulg, hand now moving back and forth on her pet’s ass, as if she is caressing a cat. “When you are finished with your business and making your return, you shall present to me your findings. I will take what I like as further tribute.”

The orc scrunches her face together in distaste, but wisely does not make another insipid comment. She nods, Freyja not missing how Sargulg has never been very intent on referring to her as one of her many titles. Well, orcs always did have a little trouble when it came to authority stronger to theirs, heh.

With a huff that acts as an end of the discussion, Sargulg stands and begins to head back to her ship, followed closely behind by the elf who bows deeply. “Thank you so much for your kindness, Empress of the Skies.” 

That done with, and a grand new statue and some liquor a part of her treasury, Freyja now contents herself with greedily eating up Adonis’ behind with her eyes. Both her hands grab either cheek and spread them apart, and she can see the rim of his entrance just barely covered by his thong.

Her pet gasps sharply, the platter over his head wobbling as he struggles to keep it above him steadily. 

“All in due time, pet,” she states, being intentionally ominous with her low, heady voice. She has to keep men on their toes, after all.

She releases his buttocks, only to bring her hand down his flesh in a resounding smack that echoes around the cave walls. 

“A-Ah—!” He squeaks, and she becomes vaguely impressed that he continues to keep the platter steadfastly above his head. The cheek that she had struck reddens, no doubt assaulting his senses with a delicious sting that makes this heart rattle against his ribs. His body shifts slightly, and he turns his head to look back at her with imploring eyes.

“D-Did I do something wrong…?” He asks softly, and Freyja finds herself thoroughly endeared on the spot.

She gives the spot she hit a firm pinch, watching how his arms shake. “Adorable for you to assume it was a punishment. Did it not feel good? I can feel your harden against me. It was a reward.”

He blinks in quick succession, the tip of his ears reddening. He turns his head to shyfully bury his head into the cushions. Ah, back to being bashful like she had first met him. Lovely. She gives him one final squeeze on his cheek, taking another piece of meat, and then lightly pats his rear. Though, considering her being a dragon, and humans generally being quite fragile, it probably feels more like proper smacks to him. His body jolts and twitches, his skin reddening further.

“Up now,” she says, “Put the platter down. It is time for you to indulge in your own… meal.”

He does so, shaking the entire time. When he slowly removes himself from her lap and stands in front of her after putting the platter aside, his hands instinctively go to shield his crotch. He’s half-hard, his cock tenting against the loincloth and a bead of sweat rolls down his abs and near his navel. Adonis’ eyes are slightly glazed, and he shifts on his feet to begin moving towards the other discarded platter, likely intending to eat the pirate’s leftovers.

Well, he was going to, but he rooted in the spot when Freyja spread her legs, a wolfish grin forming when takes one of the sofa cushions and put it on the floor in front of her. Virginal he may still be in most areas of sex, her meaning is apparent enough.

“It’s been some time, pet. I have no doubt been endlessly patient, but I have needs, and I have been very clear in what one of your roles will be while you are in my possession. I would be a fool to not have noticed that you have been enjoying yourself. Are you ready to let go of those absurd fears?”

He stutters out a breath, head turning to see if the pirates are truly gone but they are out of sight since they turned a corner. His hands quake, becoming clammy, and Freyja assumes that pretty little head is becoming filled with thoughts of her touching him and the implications of what she wants, but with a modicum of resistance.

“Right now?” He asks, softer than before.

Freyja’s lips twitch downwards, the heat striking her core quickly becoming an irritation.

“Yes. Will that be an issue?”

Hmm. How curious. She had never asked a man that before.

He closes his eyes, inhaling heavily, and his hands go to the back of his head to take his chain face veil off. He daintily sets it aside, careful to not scratch it the precious gold. He looks most down when he stands in front her, though not looking at her wet cunt. He appears to still be a bit too shy for that.

“I…” he starts with a pause and she taps her claws against the armrest impatiently. “I’ve misjudged you. Sorry.” She quirks a brow when he makes eye contact with her from under his perfect lashes, “You’ve… um. You’ve been… nice.”

She’s going to ignore how apparently difficult it was to get those words out, especially when his lips curl in a tiny smile.

“After everything… You’re the first person that’s ever made me feel wanted. You were right. I was— am afraid of what I crave. There are still times where I’m confused but I think I can see now that being with you really will be the best thing for me.”

He kneels down, a tempting sight in of itself, and his hands hesitantly place themselves on her thighs. When he looks up at her, there is still a shyness, but it is laced with a silent determination. 

“I want those thrills you can give me, I want to see the world, I want to be— I want to at least try to be your pet!” He practically exclaims, face red from a fierce blush that forms from his confession. “I promise I’ll be good! I’ll do my best! I’ll prove that I can absolutely be your greatest treasure—!!”

A low rumbling comes from deep within her. Freyja tilts her head, her grin showing teeth. There is an awful lot to admire about him at this moment. Those eyes that look more bold than she’s ever seen them, the redness of his cheeks, and how his tongue darts nervously from between those lips that she wishes to bite. It sends a fire to her loins, and she can feel herself become wet.

Is it his heart that she hears ringing in his ears, or her own?

“No need to be so jubilant, you’ll make me blush.” She says jokingly, her throat feeling somewhat dry. “Go on then.”

It takes him a moment, since he appears to just sit there and seemingly stare in awe at her pussy for several seconds. It’s the first cunt he’s ever had a good look at, and since she knows she will have her way, it’ll be the only one he sees in his lifetime, too.

Apparently done steeling himself, Adonis then dives head first into her pussy. He starts with a long, slow lick up her slit with his warm and wet tongue, taking the time to get used to her taste, probably. She doesn’t know if females of different species taste differently, but seeing how some elves seem convinced that her nectar is a type of aphrodisiac, dragons most certainly have the most excellent flavour.

He is slow when he continues to drags his tongue up and down, occasionally experimentally inserting his tongue deeper inside of her before going back to lick at her. Freyja hums hungrily, lifting her hips to grind against his mouth. 

His scent washes down on her like a fine wine, intoxicating and causes her to breathe in deeply. Her pet’s inexperience is evident, obviously. It always has been in whatever sex related thing they have done. All he does he lick at her, and yet it is strangely diligent, devout, _worshipping._ One hand is still on her thigh, gripping it most reverently, while his other likely palms at his cock.

A familiar tension builds in her belly, hot tendrils spreading outward, weaving through her veins. With a growl, she grabs onto his hair and pulls him further into her. A water sound bubbles out of him, and eyes shoot open— pleading and imploring, but begging and wanton.

“My clit.” She says roughly, “The nub. Suck on it.”

Freyja feels his mouth shift on her, moving, tongue searching since she won’t allow him to lean back so he can find her clit with his eyes. A moan comes from the back of his throat, and an entirely new flood of warmth is seeping into her that makes her chuckle darkly. Now here is a slut she will thoroughly enjoy having in her bed. 

How wonderful that he is finally beginning to truly revel in something he enjoys. She’s going to make sure that his lips are swollen by the end of this.

The air is hot, burning, filled with a shimmering heat that he no doubts feels as more beads of sweat begin to form on his shoulder blades. 

Her hips jerk when he is able to find her clit, initially lapping at it with the flat of his tongue before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. There are tremors in Adonis’ body as he struggles to breathe against her. 

After he sucks on her throbbing clit like his life depends on it— it may as well— she harshly pulls his face back, allowing him to catch his breath. His chest heaves, throat bobbing, and a string of her fluid intermingled with his drool hangs from his chin.

“Ah… haah… ngh...” He chokes out, tears prickling from the corner of his moist eyes.

Her heart clenches and her arousal skyrockets even further than before.

“How delightful,” she coos, then roughly pulls his face back to her cunt.

His mouth brushes her clit again when he lets out a low, desperate groan. His tongue runs over Freyja’s labia, tasting her, drinking her in as if she were the fountain of youth. There’s more fervor and energy in how his tongue washes over her now, though his inexperience is still evident. The corner of her lips twitch upwards.

“You’re quite sublime, pet.”

At that, his eyes shine before he closes them. His head begins to bob up and down as he uses his tongue with even more frenetic energy.

Oho. Someone enjoys compliments.

He savours her nectar, as he should, tongue delving into her entrance and her thighs begin to press against his face as a searing heat continues to only coil within her. He obediently sucks on her clit again when she commands him to do so. _Sloppy,_ she absentmindedly thinks as his tongue creates those undignified noises when he salaciously laps at her like a thirsty dog.

Adonis works his mouth tirelessly. Admittedly, Freyja is impressed by his display that sends soft shockwaves of pleasure through her core. Another suck on her slit makes her toes curl in delight, and she gropes at her breasts. Tension rubs her thighs, pressing against his face further. He appears to gag for a moment, again struggling for breath, but continuing to his tongue diligently as he drowns under her continued wetness.

"That's it— _yes!"_ Freyja roars, her words punctuated by puffs of smoke coming from her mouth.

The sharp arch of Freyja’s back and the satisfied groan that accompanies it signals her quickly coming release. The orgasm almost makes her thrash her tail, which would probably destroy the sofa outright. Another suckle on her clit makes her vaginal walls clench down on nothing, and she huffs out several more rough groans that border on growls. 

She is still feeling a wave of pleasure that makes her body twitch when she releases Adonis from the confines of her thighs and hand, allowing him to breathe again. His voice is stuck stuttering out noises of pleasure, some delicate, most brazenly loud and desperately from his breathless panting.

“Very well done for your first try,” she says, her hand idly rubbing her sopping wet cunt. Adonis’ chin is slathered in her juices, and takes her over hand to rub her thumb on his chin, collecting her nectar, then pressing against his plump, swollen lips.

A quiet, slick sound occurs when her thumb enters his mouth and she feels his tongue. He sucks on her digit, eyes glazed over as he looks up at her like she is some type of saint. His shoulders tense and surprise quickly flickers on his expression, and Freyja then realizes that she unintentionally pricked his tongue. She pulls back, revealing the slightest hint of red mixed in with the spit and vaginal fluid.

She smirks, and he in turns grins slightly. 

“You’ve still have some to improve on. But I intend to put your mouth to good use nonetheless.”

He swallows. “Y-Yeah… I think I can look forward to that. I— I enjoyed it.”

“Good.” She replies, eyes looking down at his fully hard cock. Freyja was never one to only have one orgasm to be done with it. And besides, she has much to teach him when it comes to being inside a woman. This night is the true prelude to many more to come.

She look upon his face fondly. Disheveled hair, lips with a slight touch of blood, moist eyes. The sight makes her core burn with renewed desire.

Yes.

Adonis is hers and hers alone. 

And she intends to make sure he knows that.

* * *

There is only one thing that rings in Adonis mind after the… energetic session of sex he just experienced with Freyja.

_Whew._

To think sex would be such a work out! He had worried about exercise for a time, but now he doesn’t think he needs to worry much. A sigh comes out of him as he washes his body in a small pool of water that was warmed by Freyja. It’s not a massive bath like in the other treasury, and she promptly flew into the ocean before returning and decided that was enough. Though she did coyly say that can clean her personally when he’s done with himself when she left to the bedchamber.

Adonis slicks his hair back, heart and mind calm for once, and he begins to genuinely think that this might truly be where he belongs.

_A dragon courted me._

A small snort comes out of him, shoulders shaking as a fit of boyish giggles comes out of him. Despite that… there is still a sense of homesickness. Maybe he won’t return to his family per say, but he wants to at least visit Dacroustein. He wants to think that Freyja will allow him that, even if he needs to wear a disguise or something like that.

His hand rubs over his skin that Freyja had given a new set of scratches since the previous set had healed. One of his nipples has a dull ache from a bite. His thighs are bruised again from her tail mercilessly hitting him. 

Adonis had felt his skin redden, sizzling toward a pleasant sting whenever she wielded those rough hands with the strength to set his skin on fire. A fire that was _fun...._ even exquisite. He might… he might grow to really enjoy being her pet. He’s not sure if he’d ever tire from being called someone’s treasure, even when it comes from a big bad beast’s mouth.

Perhaps it is _because_ she’s an unrepentant beast that the word sounds so divine in his ears. 

Orders, command, to have someone else in control like this... To find solace and sanctuary in the embrace of a terrible dragon…

Yeah. He can be a good pet. The best. He can conquer any residue shame he might feel.

He continues to soak himself, reminding himself to ask Freyja for a good long backstory on that frankly amazing looking octopus statue. He’d also like to try out new hats since he knows she’s so fond of that. No doubt she’ll want him to massage her feet, too. 

“Do it quickly so the fuckin’ dragon can’t hear or smell him get scared.”

Adonis stops washing himself. That sounded like a weirdly loud whisper—

“Agh!” He grits out, feeling a sudden sting on the base of his neck. He grabs at it, initially thinking that it was a bite from an insect, but instead it’s a thin dart.

He’s not quite sheltered enough to not know what this is. He swivels his head around, seeing green skin and a mess of black hair. A spike of adrenaline hits him, and he opens his mouth to scream, but nothing comes out except for a meager gasp. A numbness quickly overtakes him, and his vision is unable to focus on anything.

Even his heart beats normally and slowly.

“Douse him with that Terrazzo drink so she can’t smell him later, either.” He can hear the dastardly smirk from that horrible orc, “This’ll teach that fuckin’ bitch. It’s high time someone teaches the overgrown lizard a lesson.”

Adonis’ legs wobble, and he feels a strong set of hands grab both his biceps. The only thing that comes out of him is slow, shallow breathing despite his desperate need to scream, or thrash around, or literally do _anything._

Instead, he closes his eyes and loses consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adonis: Damn maybe dragon pussy ain’t all that bad 😳
> 
> You can bet your ass that if this was a longer story I would have spent an entire chapter for Freyja's flashback of watching Adonis from afar, and then I would have fucking spent like 30-40K words on him getting into his role as her pet. AKA too many words, lol. Making shit bloated and unnecessarily long is my shtick, afterall. I guess it's a good thing I decided this would be five chapters so I can limit myself. I did want to extend the scene on Freyja groping Adonis as he danced instead of being a single paragraph but I was tired and couldn't be bothered. Use your imagination, lol. Hopefully the story still flows good, idk. I mainly just wanna finish this and I'm sure you all can guess what's gonna happen next. It should have a lot more sex. And blood.
> 
> A note on dragon mating, cause I spent too much thinking about it:  
> Dragons are loosely based off emus in that females fight one another to court a mate and to get territory. Males are the primary and often sole caregiver for the young. Dragons do not mate for life (However! Dragons are sentient and capable of ~feelings~ so, obviously, there are exceptions to the rule. Dragons can fall in love! And sometimes they stay with each other!) In terms of sexual dimorphism, they are based off raptors (owls, eagles, hawks, ect) in that the female is noticeably larger than the male (only in their dragon form. In their humanoid form that are similarly built and can both reach 7 to 9 feet in height. Though the female will remain much stronger than the male). After copulation during mating season, a female will lay a brood (~3-5 eggs) after three days, which will be taken by the male, and then she proceeds to mate with several others. She can lay up to 30-50 eggs a year. Males will collect several broods from several females during mating season. Incubation period for the eggs are roughly 43-50 days. A single dragon will have ~10-15 mates per mating season. We'll just say that female dragons have titties in their humanoid form because of convergent evolution, cause they don't actually breastfeed (but most of all, I just like boobs). Dragons will only lay eggs in their bestial form.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone said they don't want our dear Adonis hurt too bad, but someone else said they wanted him roughed up. So I tried a mix, lol. 🤣 Love me some of that pretty boy toy whump.

They say men like him always get their comeuppance.

Men like him shamelessly seduce women. Men like him ruin relationships. Men like him are harlots, and harlots always go around doing things they shouldn’t with other women. Men like him are damaged goods from being deflowered. Men like him will inevitably get mixed up with a bad crowd because he’s such a dirty slut.

It’s all his fault, surely. He relished in the pirate’s attention, and he relished it even more when Freyja said she’d kill them if they touched him. He _loved_ the attention. Being the center of everyone’s hungry gazes. Like the shiniest piece of treasure among a pile of gold. Everyone wants a piece of him and _ah…_ Does that get his blood pumping.

But this was inevitable. There is a reason they make the word _modesty_ entrenched in every man's mind. It keeps them safe, because when they’re prancing around being dressed the way Adonis has been… well. They will naturally attract _fucking pirates._

Adonis stirs awake, but just barely. There is only darkness from his eyes still being closed, and he’s too scared to actually try to see his surroundings. He’s groggy, mind unfocused and scattered, but _of course_ the one thread of thought he’d grab onto is one that blames him for everything. It’s like he’s getting lectured by father again.

_N-No…_

It’s a weak, feeble voice bouncing in his head. His own. It feels like a light at the end of a dark, scary tunnel.

_I don’t deserve this._

_Just because I like women’s attention doesn’t mean I should get taken by pirates._

A small and pathetic noise comes out of him before he stifles it by biting his lip.

_I don’t want this! I didn’t deserve any of this! I didn’t deserve having a shitty father. I didn’t deserve having everything taken by me. And I don’t deserve getting kidnapped— again! T-The only person who can take me is Freyja…! Dammit! Fuck! Because she’s the one I_ want!

His eyes open, and he feels himself shivering. But it’s not from fear or rage, but rather it’s from the cold. He vaguely remembers he was hit with the sleep dart while he was still nude and bathing, the only thing on his body being his collar and chain. A sting on his wrists tells him he’s been tied up, and with some experimental, tired tugs he already knows it’s hopeless. It’s the same situation for his ankles.

The slow, rhythmic sway of the wooden floor he’s lying on causes a sickening feeling to quickly begin churning in the pits of his stomach. The distinct sound of waves hitting the side of the ship makes him feel like he’s a rock sinking into the bottom of the ocean. It’s dark, too. In the middle of the night, if he had to guess, with streaks of moonlight illuminating through a window. The sea is calm, despite everything.

_Ship… Sea…_

He should be afraid. He _is._ He’s beyond terrified and yet his heart beats steadily. Beyond biting his lip, his mouth can’t do much anything else, his throat feeling dry like it is mimicking an arid desert. And his body still feels heavy and lethargic, and Adonis belatedly notices that his eyelids still droop sluggishly.

He must still be sedated from the sleep dart.

“Wakey, wakey.” 

A sarcastic, awful voice slithers its way into his ears. He numbly bites into his lip again when a large foot presses onto his back, not enough to bruise but certainly enough to cause him substantial discomfort. His body slowly curls further into the fetal position in response. Adonis blinks, attempting to turn his head but he still feels like a sack of bricks is sitting on his body. Whatever glare he is hoping to achieve must look especially pathetic.

His eyes focus on a green form— the orc pirate who had visited Freyja. How long has that been? How long has he been out? _How long has he been on this ship?_

The more he squints and focuses, the more features he can see on the orc’s expression. Her baleful smirk makes goosebumps form on his skin, and a scar going down from her forehead all the way down to the base of her neck makes him more anxious than before. Jocund cackling and whispers confirms to Adonis that the orc is not the only pirate in the room with him.

“That fuckin’ dragon has been a thorn in my side for fuckin’ years.” Sargulg spits out, her legs bending so she crouches bedside his head. Her hand grips his messy hair, rough and merciless, not unlike Freyja’s own pulls and tugs. “Wrecks my first ship, then she thinks she can order me around. _Me._ She wants a fuckin’ tribute everytime I come here? Maybe it’s high time _I_ get somethin’ in return.”

Adonis’ pinches his brows together in a grimace. Her breath is absolutely rancid and something unpleasant crawls up his spine the more she looks directly into his eyes. Her lips curl further upwards from his obvious discomfort.

“I’ve been wantin’ to get back at that overgrown lizard for fuckin’ years now. Imagine my surprise when I see she’s got a human ‘n she acts like a dog with a bone with him. Time for that dog to have its bone taken away from it.”

Another pirate begins to say something, “I still think we shoulda gotten that octopus back…”

“Jowett, if you say anythin’ else about that fuckin’ statue I’m throwin’ you off the damn ship!”

There is some snickering from the others, and Sargulg returns her attention to Adonis after doing a particularly dramatic eye roll. “You’re better to look at than some overpriced statue,” her lips curl to a lopsided smirk, her eyes feeling more violating than any touch and it makes him flinch weakly. 

“Speakin’ of bein’ overpriced…” A large finger with a chipped nail grossly trails down his neck and over his clavicle, but his body can’t even muster another fatigued flinch. Instead, his brows furrow slightly in a small grimace. “You would fetch a pretty penny, wouldn’t ya? How much would mommy pay to get her son back?”

_Not a lot,_ Adonis thinks wryly, _If anything at all._

Sargulg speaks again, her breath continuing to make Adonis wish he was still unconscious. Her voice makes it clear she is speaking to her crew rather than him. “But we can’t go back to Dacroustein just yet. That’d probably be the first place the dragon would search. We gotta bide our time and let things cool off. We’ve all bathed in Terrazzo so she can’t smell us.” She nods at Adonis, “Keep the bitch boy sedated so she can’t hear him either.”

Obviously they’re not the only ones out and about in the ocean. That’s a lot of heartbeats to listen to. Would Freyja really be able to pick out his thunderous beat out of the rest? Does he sound different from everyone else? He’s heard that some birds have special calls for their mate. A sound unique from the rest of the flock, despite it sounding all the same to him. Is it the same? She can hear him out of everyone else?

Ah… damn. That’s kind of romantic. He likes that. He likes Freyja.

...He doesn’t want to be here. Not on this hard wood, naked and feeling so lethargic. He wants to be sleeping on her scales, in the embrace of her claws. 

“In the meantime…” Sargulg’s voice invades his head again. There’s something hungry in it. There’s something hungry in the other pirate’s eyes Adonis sees when he moves his faltering gaze around in an attempt to better discern his surroundings. “Sailin’ around these waters makes me awfully tense. I can see why other ships have cabin boys tied to the beds, heh.”

A smack on his cheek makes his eyes blow wide, and the accompanying sting makes his hands shake. A hit like that would wake him up pretty quickly, with the ringing in his ears being quite loud and annoying, but his body remains prone. Another round of mocking laughter surrounds him.

The next thing he knows is that Sargulg is standing behind him, and a sharp tug pulling at his neck tells him he’s currently being dragged out of whatever room he’s currently in by his collar’s chain. His teeth clench at the pressure at his neck as his body remains mostly limp, though as his back drags across the wooden floor he still feels the need to feebly shield his genitals with his hands, before idly remembering his wrists are bound behind his back. Dammit, he can already feel that stupid blush forming for the umpteenth time. Not only that, his nipples harden when he feels the cool air wash over him, his goosebumps remaining on his skin. The muscles in his thighs tighten for a moment when he attempts to bend his legs to further cover his nude form, but to no avail.

Now on the ship’s deck, fear threatens to drown him. His gaze to and fro at the crowd of pirates surrounding him. He thinks a small whimper comes out of him. He isn’t sure, his thoughts thrashing at the seams of his mind, before he holds onto the only conclusion he can feasibly think of: _If she can’t smell me… Please just let my heart beat faster. Anything._

A bruising pain suddenly assaulting his ribs forces his lips to part with a voiceless gasp and a shudder. The orc ruthlessly kicks him again and Adonis thinks he might just be knocked unconscious then and there from the resulting pain and humiliation. 

“That’s a good set of scratches on ya,” Sargulg says gleefully, “Can’t wait to add some of my own. Your ma won’t mind a couple of scars, would she? Heh. Parents tend to pay much more when their kiddos are all battered and bruised. Be sure to do ya part and beg when ya see her again.”

Adonis closes his eyes, trying anything to block out what’s currently happening to him, though he can do nothing to their sadistic comments that ring in his eardrums. It’s a cacophony of multiple pirates talking about him, all demeaning and objectifying, and decidedly the attention he does _not_ want. A tight knot forms on his stomach, his chest feeling impossibly heavy.

“He’s got a pretty looking cock. Wonder how much bigger he gets when he’s hard.” One says.

“How well d’ya think a prince eats pussy? Hehe.” Another comments.

“If he tries biting my clit like the last guy I’m breaking his jaw.”

“God, I just wanna grab his balls and squeeze. Men always scream the best when you crush their crown jewels like that.”

“We don’t want him to fuckin’ scream, remember?”

Adonis’ mind wanders again. In the moment, a flash of anger protects him from the pain from another kick, which is accompanied by rough hands exploring his body that makes him want to vomit. He attempts to summon more strength that simply doesn’t seem to flow through his veins, and hopelessly crashes over him. What he needs will never come and no matter how much he seeks it he won’t find it. He was never born for great things, or to find his place in the sun.

He was merely born to be a plaything for anyone who has their hands on him. And another pair of hands do begin to touch him, making his body jolt slightly. These hands don’t feel as calloused, and they’re smaller. Maybe human. Maybe elf. 

Is he feeling regret right about now? Or is it grief? Is that the heaviness in his chest?

Eyes still tightly shut, he thinks of a red, scaly figure. Maybe it is regret he feels, a sensation that is heightened when someone touches his cock and tears begin to form at the corner of his eyes. 

_Ahh… I’ve really given Freyja endless heaps of trouble, even after she’s done nothing but shown me new heights of pleasure… I just want her to touch me. Her and her alone. I’m sorry for troubling you, Freyja..._

When mother inevitably has no plans to buy him back, then what? Will they kill him? Or will he become a slave to everyone on board? Will he become a shell of what he once was? Freyja had so expertly torn his sense of self to tatters, something he really wishes he could at least thank her for doing. Because then he discovered a new self when he was a distortion of what he once was, one that had felt freeing… until he was forcefully taken to this ship. Was he destined to only feel freedom for so little time? Is there a higher power playing around with him?

Adonis opens his eyes and immediately regrets the action. All the pirates’ faces morph together from his blurry vision, coalescing into a hideous beast that’s going to swallow him whole and violate his body and mind endlessly. Their voices become indiscernible from one another, a mix of horrible noises that devolve to a series of cackling. 

“G-Guh...” His voice is something of a gurgle when a sting on his shoulder surprises him. Is someone _biting_ him? And over Freyja’s own bite mark? Though he can’t even ruminate on that realization for much longer, as another slap rattles his head. There’s some pain on his cock from someone probably grabbing him too hard, though the amount of hands on him makes it impossible for him to focus on a single sensation. 

Oh. He’s bleeding. He tastes the copper in his mouth. He must’ve bitten his cheek from the slap.

His body feels warm. Too warm. No, no, no. He can only feel this way with Freyja. He doesn’t want to feel his sort of heat filling him with these dirty pirates. For a moment, his breath comes out in a short spurt before it’s replaced by his sedated breathing. He grabs onto that moment, even when someone pulls at his hair, even when someone punches him in the stomach, even when hands push and pull at him in opposite directions— dragging him across the deck like a ragdoll as the pirates fight among themselves on who can have him first.

Adonis keeps thinking about that small burst in his breathing.

That was… some adrenaline.

_That can get my heart beating._

He knows he has to overcome whatever drugs they put inside him. He bites down on his lip, fists clenching down as he attempts to focus all his energy in trying to attain more adrenaline, or whatever it was he just felt. A desire, a need, an _ambition._

He had cursed his body and emotions before, but now it’s the only thing he has that can save him.

He needs his heart to be loud. He needs to be frantic and worried. He needs to _scream._

Holding his breath is hard when the pirates seem intent on making him their personal punching bag for the evening. Ah, if manages to live through all this, he’s going to be bruised for several days, if not weeks. Will he even be able to stand? How many bones will be broken by the end of it?

Despite that, one thought prevails over the rest.

_I hope Freyja still keeps me even when I’m all beat up… I won’t look too ugly will I?_

His blood feels like it's on fire when _something_ flows through it. He hopes it’s adrenaline. He feels as though he’s barely escaping death at time someone else hits him, and he doesn’t even know what’s going on with his lower half because his mind desperately blocks it out. Adonis is disconnected from everything, like his mind is leaving his body, as he urges himself to do literally anything that he cannot.

_N-No… I can… do it…_

Adonis grimaces sharply. He just needs that extra burst of strength… A vague _ba-boom, ba-boom_ sound is just barely audible in his ears, and he inhales heavily— taking in as much air as he’s feasibly able. 

_I’m a damn treasure. They’re not allowed to touch me! I won’t_ let _them!_

An ear shattering scream is expelled from deep within his lungs, making his throat feel like there’s shards of glass embedded inside it. It’s a primal sound, its raw intensity that speaks of urgency and a desperate need, and most importantly, it’s _very loud._ With that burst of adrenaline he kicks his leg, hitting someone in the face, and thrashes his body, never quieting his screams. Adonis’ skin craves the comfort of his keeper, of her tough yet soft scales. He needs Freyja’s scent, the movement of her body and the feeling of his body leaving the ground for the safety of her claws.

“Freyja—!! _Freyjaaaaa!!!”_

Adonis screams like his body is rebelling against his very existence, sending his mind into a spasm. 

“Fre—Mghm…!”

His mouth is smothered by a pair of hands and Adonis doesn’t even need to think about his next action— he bites onto the fingers, his teeth sinking into the green skin. 

He’s rewarded with a punch to the jaw for that, it makes the back of his head harshly hit the deck of the ship, ears ringing and chest heaving. More blood pools in his mouth that he spits out, not caring who he hits with it. 

“What the fuck?! Didn’t you give him enough sedation?! We fuckin’ measured for 24 hours!” Sargulg grits out above him, her arm pinning him on the floor by the neck, her other hand still covering his mouth. 

Overwhelmed, both physically and mentally, tears stream down Adonis’ cheeks. His sniffles are the only thing that can be heard from the tense silence. All the pirates are still as statues, all looking out at the ocean in all directions. With each second that drags on, a chillness fills his veins, coldness bringing the synapses of his brain to a stand still. In his mind, he no longer screams. Instead, he just repeats a pitiful whimper.

_F-Freyja..._

It’s the kind of tense quiet where there isn’t even a soft sea breeze. A feather would fall without drifting one way or the other. Everything is still, utterly still.

It’s _awful._

But not nearly as awful when Sargulg looks back down at his quivering body. Her eyes are narrowed, rigid, hard— _furious._ Even under his own blurry vision her lethal stare feels painful and piercing, the bruises he had sustained from being mercilessly groped and thrown around seeming to flare up. There is a tenseness in the orc she isn't even trying to mask, and she swings her hand to give Adonis a quick, painful jab to his side.

“Ngh… guh…” He chokes out, his breathing stuttering. He’s both lethargic and awake at the same time, and he breaks out in a full blown crying fit. His upper body and shoulders wrack with every sob that forces their way out, fire of shame and anger burns just under his skin and a deep emptiness fills his heart that bursts at the seams.

“F-Frey...ja…” Red hot tears run down Adonis’ face, gliding across the tender flesh of his cheeks that continue to sting from the previous hits he had sustained. The tears feel like salt being poured into open wounds as his entire body begins to feel an ache that he had done everything in his power to dull. Adonis’ chest rises and falls unevenly as he gasps for breath, and he squeezes his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists each time he throws his head back to let out a blood curdling wail.

“God, someone shut him up already. Get more of the drugs since it clearly wasn’t enough,” someone says distantly. Suddenly, there’s an almost crushing force on Adonis’ cheeks as Sargulg grabs his face.

Her wide smile makes his body shiver violently and his breath hitch in fear. Slowly, she licks her own lips, savouring the sight of him.

“You really gave us a scare there.” She says, her voice undercut with a hidden threat. “I’ll give you somethin’ to fuckin’ cry about.”

He vainly writhes his body to try to get out of her grasp, to no avail. When Sargulg reels her arm back, fists clenched in a fist, Adonis closes his eyes to resign himself to getting punched. Maybe even having his nose broken from the impact, he glumly notes. Hopelessly weighs heavy on his body, threatening to drown him.

Except the punch never comes.

A roar, a wonderful, beautiful _roar,_ awakens another surge of adrenaline that hits his system with so much force he lurches his body forward. Among the ensuing chaos Adonis hears the shattering of glass as the ship’s windows are broken from the bellowing sound that rips across the air like thunder. A frantic stampede of footsteps signals the pirates desperately attempting to get to their stations. Their yells are seemingly endless but even among the pandemonium he feels his lips curl into the tiniest smile…

“Ehehe… you’re all in trouble now…” He whispers with near delirious glee, his voice so soft he almost doesn’t hear himself.

“The cannons—!!” Sargulg starts, but she’s interrupted with a second roar. The sound embodies rage, a promise of death coming swiftly. 

Beating wings makes the waves of the sea become more violent, making the ship sway and Adonis slide on the floor. His body still hurts all over, but that hardly matters. Especially when the moonlight disappears and is replaced by a great shadow, craning his aching neck to look upwards in the sky, Adonis sees a blood-red silhouette.

His smile grows wider.

The power and terror she embodies as a dragon… it’s _beautiful._ To think there was a time where he thought the sight and sound of her was nothing except an ill-omen. _Now…_ Now it’s the only thing he ever wants to see or hear. He opens his mouth to call out to her, but the only thing he manages is a stuttery, wet hiccup.

Black smoke swirls in the air— a prelude of what’s to come. It happens in an instant, but for Adonis it happens in slow motion. He focuses solely on her gleaming scales and snarling teeth. He isn’t sure if she’s even seen him yet, she appears content at striking terror into the hearts of the pirates. A flick of her powerful tail deflects any cannonballs shot at her, causing massive splashes onto the waters below. 

A fusillade of fire balls comes from Freyja’s mouth, and upon impact his ears are assaulted by the sound of wood splintering, bursting apart, and the ship is promptly torn asunder. Bodies go in and out of his vision as they are flung into the ocean, and Adonis’ own body slides down towards the water but is stopped when he lands on the mast of the ship. The ship itself is largely in two parts now, its stern pointed to the sky with the bow slowly pulling into the watery depths.

Blearily, he tries to refocus his gaze, watching the flames rise up to greet Freyja’s awe-inspiring form, the heat wreathing around her. Adonis’ lips quiver, though he remains smiling. From between Freyja’s dagger sharp teeth he sees what’s left of something— or _someone._ There’s patches of green skin among the viscera and gore, and when he sees a bloodied spinal cord slip out from her mouth and fall into the water, he allows himself to be overtaken with fatigue again and closes his eyes.

Then, he slips back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Orcs have among the most repugnant of tastes that Freyja has ever had the displeasure of experiencing. Sargulg was fortunate enough to have her final, pitiful moments between her teeth and she had the utter gall to have such a deplorable flavour. Surely that is indicative of one’s diet. Pirates are a tawdry dinner, nothing more and nothing less.

Not only that, but they make an ire rise up in her like nothing else. She had punched a hole a new hole in her treasury, and torn that irrelevant octopus statue to shreds as she waits for Adonis to wake up. Sargulg and her crew were not the only casualty for the evening— any ship unfortunate enough to come across her met the same fate.

Smoke bellows from her mouth as she huffs angrily, pacing back and forth in front of the bed her pet slumbers in. When she had realized he was missing she— she was at a _loss._ She had not once in her life felt that way. The frustration and _worry…_ It was nauseating. There is still a tightness in her chest every time she spares him a glance. 

For the first time she could smell or hear him. It caused her to strike out against any ship she saw but when she had heard that hoarse, desperate scream… 

  
  


_“Freyja—!! Freyjaaaaa!!!”_

Her body had acted on instinct, and all she saw was red until she took him back with her.

A haggard groan stops Freyja from punching another hole in the cave walls, and in an instant she is beside him in the bed. He blinks heavily, rubbing at his eyes for a moment before flinching, apparently having forgotten about how bruised his left eye is.

Remembering the rest of his bruises… Freyja regrets not making the pirates suffer for longer.

When next he blinks, he swallows hard, and she practically throws a golden goblet filled with fresh, cold water at him. He takes it graciously, quickly drinking in a series of loud gulps. After he is done, he lets out a long sigh. He does not look at her— nervously looking at the ground is a talent of his, apparently— and she watches his fingers fidget against the goblet’s rim.

“Ah…” he says softly, then clears his throat, “Thank you.”

Freyja can hear traces of underlying apprehension in Adonis’ voice despite his apparent attempt at passing his comment off as nonchalant. Her brows crease together as a small bout of fury alights inside of her. Her hand goes under his chin, not grasping it due to his bruises, and she gently forces him to look up at her.

“Should anyone attempt to denigrate you I will kill them all and display their heads on pikes as an example to others. I swear it.”

His eyes seem to hold a gleam in them for a moment— similar in how he enjoys a bit of attention. Her pet liked that. He squirms, _bashful,_ and his voice becomes a squeak. 

“O-Oh... You needn’t go that far… But the sentiment is appreciated.” His slightly trembling hands hold onto her wrist, guiding her hand to be on his cheek instead of under his chin. He leans into her touch, nuzzling her palm. “Thank you for saving me.”

The strange, foreign sensation hits her chest that Freyja will only later come to realize is her heart skipping a beat.

“I have taken the liberty of assessing your injuries. They are superficial, but I do not want you doing anything extraneous for the coming days.” She says, her voice stern and brokering no room for argument. She will likely make certain he is effectively bedridden as he heals, not wishing to risk him slipping or falling in any case. Her lips curl in a wry smirk, “Once you are healed, it would be prudent to dress you in the finest jewels again. Perhaps it is time I demand a world renowned artist create a new collection of rings and necklaces that you and only you shall wear.”

Adonis further presses his cheek against her palm, likely seeking more warmth that extends beyond the blanket over his body. Her brows further crease together when he sniffles, expression becoming a tight grimace as his shoulders tense.

“I don’t… I don’t…” He murmurs, “I don’t want the last thing to have touched me to have been those pirates.” Adonis’ eyes plead, and his hand moves across a bruise at his side before taking it away as if his own skin burned him. “P-Please, it… it feels like there’s ants under my skin. I n-need you to touch me e-everywhere… so I can’t feel them anymore…”

Ah. Freyja would be deluding herself if she said that she hadn’t had the same thought cross her mind. Her pet does not have the right scent, after all. He must smell like her. He must be covered in her marks. Everyone must be reminded of who he belongs to.

The desires at her. It makes lust thrum in her veins.

But she does not indulge. Just barely.

“You are injured.” She says, and she sees incredulity with a hint of bemusement flicker on his expression.

“That’s never stopped you before.”

The surprise from hearing him say such a statement forces a bark of laughter out of her. “Aha! You minx! So desperate for my embrace!” Well, what he says is certainly true. A man’s injuries have never bothered before but… No matter. If he wishes for her to take him so badly— such refined tastes he has, haha!— then perhaps she can entertain the request. She’ll just need to be cognizant of her claws and tail. More than usual, anyhow.

Any owner would steadfastly clean their stolen treasure when it is returned to them. It is time to cleanse away the pirate’s touch and odour.

Freyja leans in, her tongue caressing the seams of his lips before he opens his mouth. A throaty moan comes from Adonis as she dominates him fully with a single kiss. He’s already breathing heavily when they part, his eyes slightly glazed with desire.

How lovely.

His throat bobs when he swallows, a shaky smile gracing his features.

“W-We can… have this as a celebration and, um,” his eyes dart down, “...My way of atoning for giving you so much trouble.”

Freyja clicks her tongue. “Enough with this atmosphere of misery, pet. We are here for pleasure. What’s left of those pirates have likely been eaten by sharks by now. Cease thinking about them.” 

She grabs a hold of the chain of his collar, wrapping it around her wrist. Adonis’ reaction is immediate— a soft whimper laden with hidden delight. Her hold of the chain gives him a sense of comfort, no doubt. Something akin to a strong, safe embrace. Perhaps it is an action that truly confirms to him that this moment is real, and that he is no longer in Sargulg’s captivity.

It helps that the galloping beat of his heart is _intoxicating._

And it is a further delight when he shivers at her advances, especially when she pulls the blanket off of him. She makes him lay on his back, and she leans forward to give his bruised skin a flutter of kisses. There are some injuries that broke the skin, but nothing that would scar him. If the pirates had given him something permanent… She doesn’t think she would have been able to stop herself from hunting down their families, anyone associated with them, even if it were for brief business exchanges… They would all share the same fate of being crushed under her jaw or burned alive.

“Mhmng…” Adonis whimpers softly, his entire body feeling hot against her scales, and he spreads his legs further apart when Freyja slowly trails her hand down his abdomen and towards his already weeping cock.

“Already do desperate and wanton,” she chuckles, her tongue licking languidly at the base of his neck, careful not to accidentally jab her horns at his face. Her pet shudders, whimpering more loudly below her. She leans back, watching his lust-filled pupils dilate when she grasps his cock, the stimulation and friction of her scaled hand making him arch his back slightly.

“You may touch me as you like,” she says. “I’d rather you did not merely keep your hands at your sides, pet.”

There’s a small gasp from him at her granting him permission to touch her, and she sees a joyous twitch at his lips. His hands begin at her thighs, shivering each time she slowly moves her own palm over his hard cock. Adonis further confirms that he is a good, well-trained pet when his fingers make their way to her clit and begins rubbing her. His free hand moves sluggishly across her body, soon cradling one of her breasts.

They remain like that for several more moments, stimulating one another, and when she feels her folds begin to grow wet Freyja lifts her hips to rub her crotch against the head of his cock. Adonis continues rubbing her clit, though his eyes remain on her tits, and he licks his lips.

“Um… Uh—” He starts, and Freyja smirks hungrily.

“You wish to use your mouth on my breasts, pet?”

He swallows down a noise that was about to burst out of him, his face becoming a deep scarlet, the blush reaching down the base of his shoulders. “Nhm… I—” he swallows nervously again, body jerking when she rubs her wet cunt against his cock. He seems to be searching for words he never finds, so he agrees because it’s the easiest. “Y-Yes…”

It really is quite adorable how his voice cracks.

“You may use your mouth as you like.” Freyja responds, and while he lurches his upper body forward with the same enthusiasm as a dog about to receive a treat, she then lowers her hips and allows his shaft to enter her body.

She slides down right to the base of his cock without pause, and when their hips meet there is a small thud. Had it been long since their flesh slapped together like this? It certainly feels like it. The stimulation of having him inside her feels greater than before, heat swelling Freyja’s body. Adonis, meanwhile, enjoys the sensation of her erect nipple in his mouth. He squeezes it between his lips, licking her with his tongue. 

His arms wrap around her, and she does the same. She doesn’t intend to hurt him… _too_ much, but she does end up scratching at his back, careful not to break the skin or to go over his bruises. Freyja merely follows her impulses, her rough breathing blowing over Adonis’ hair.

Moving her hips, her face begins to twist in pleasure. It’s slow at first, but with each sharp gasp from Adonis prompts her to move faster and faster at a steady pace. 

“Haah… haah…” He pants in between moving his mouth across her breasts, and Freyja moves even faster, her hips hitting his more harshly. At one moment, she nearly pulls out his entire cock from her entrance when she lifts herself, only to slam him back inside, making her pet choke on the air.

“G-g-g… Ge… Gently…”

“I am being gentle!” Freyja huffs with mirth in her voice. He lifts his head, his face in between her breasts, and it’s clear he’s having a terribly difficult time at focusing his gaze. His right eye, that isn’t swollen with bruising, is half-lidded and glazed with lust.

The sounds of their flesh rubbing against one another grows louder, to the point where it would absolutely be heard outside the bedchamber if she had guests. The bed creaks, moving in tandem with her moving hips. Her pet grits his teeth, now beginning to break out in a cold sweat under her ministrations.

She hadn’t initially planned this, but she decides it couldn’t hurt to pinch one of his bruises. Well, for her, anyhow. Adonis lets out a little cry from the brief strike of pain, drool dribbling over his lips. The folds of her vaginal muscles clench down on his shaft, more heat assailing her entire body at the sight of his debauched expression.

“Enjoying yourself, pet?” She teases him by clenching down again, and is quickly rewarded with a long whine.

“Aha… nhgn… C-Careful… I might just d-die here…”

She snorts at his jest. Dirty, wet sounds continue to resound in the chamber, alongside the clanking of the chain of Adonis’ collar. Her pussy is practically flooding with her nectar. If she were able to have goosebumps form on her scales, would she have them? Freyja shakes her hips left and right to rub her fleshy folds against his pulsating cock. 

She nearly punctures his skin when tightly grips his shoulders, but before any blood would potentially flow out, she flips the two of them so that she has her back to the silken bedsheets and her pet is on top of her, blinking owlishly.

“Move your hips.” Is all she commands, and he obediently does so after nodding his head vigorously.

Freyja keeps her hold on his collar’s chain as Adonis pistons his hips, his easily slipping in and out. The fullness of him inside her is a divine sensation, and no doubt her folds must make him feel as though he’s melting in pleasure. 

“Haah… haah…” He pants, moaning desperately each time his cock sinks into her pussy. “Nghmm… haah…” 

Freyja can begin to feel his precum leak inside of her, obviously beginning to reach his limit. His voice becomes wobbly, as though he is attempting to fight back tears, and he shuts his eyes with a whimper.

“F-Freyja… Frey...ja…” He groans out, her name sounding like a mantra from his lips. A song of worship, of course. Just the way she likes it. “Freyja, Freyja…” He gasps, “K-Kiss me…”

That is the one and only demand she will allow him to make.

She wrenches her arm back to pull his collar down and force his lips to land on hers. His tongue instantly delves into her mouth, desperate and searching. Their tongues mingle, their bodies connect both above and below. It feels like pleasure circulating throughout their systems, and searing heat strikes down directly on her core and she clenches down on him one final time as she reaches her climax. 

If she were more of a romantic, she would admit that when his soft lips are pressed against hers, she wants them there forever…

But they do separate, mostly Adonis needing to gasp for breath but she doesn’t lip him go without taking a small nip at his bottom lip.

She wraps her powerful legs around him when he throws his head back with a cry.

“A— Agh! Ngm…!”

Semen bursts forth from his cock, and his entire body shakes violently. His cum flows through her vagina, some of her seeping out and making a small body onto the bed sheets, along with her own vaginal fluid. This time, she does make thin rivulets of blood run down his shoulders when she unconsciously holds onto him harder as she finishes. 

They lay together, Adonis’ head nestled at the crook of her neck, and the two of them bask in the afterglow with satisfied smiles. His spine still trembles occasionally whenever she rubs his back, and his cock softens inside of her. His strength appears to be completely drained, though it’s not as though he had much to begin with.

She feels a quick burst of mischief flow through her, and soon she maneuvers her tail so that the tip goes between Adonis’ buttocks. Her pet jerks his head back suddenly, his cheeks clenching down on her tail, and he cries out at the sensation.

“Ah!” He swivels his head to back at her tail prodding at his entrance, “Woah— I—”

Freyja smirks widely. “Calm yourself. I will not actually enter you. I am merely giving you a taste of what will eventually come. I have… toys in another treasury. I intend to use them very, _very_ thoroughly.”

His cheeks flush, hips twitching when she continues to touch him down there.

“O-Oh… Does… Does that hurt?”

“Not if you do it correctly. You shall be fine, I’ll make certain of it. You may feel a slight discomfort at the start, however.”

As much as she would actually fuck him with her tail then and there, that might be a bit much considering his frail body. She hadn’t intended to hurt him during sex but she did. So now he has more wounds to heal from. She isn’t certain that she wouldn’t outright tear something inside him in their current states, anyway… which would be… well.

He blinks at her, his eyes looking a tad bit… excited. He puts his head back down against the base of her beck, murmuring softly, “Looking forward to it.”

She soon finds herself idly caressing her fingers in his hair. The smell of sweat lingers in the air, but she wrinkles her nose at the odour of something unsightly. _Ugh._ She can still smell orc.

“Oof—” Adonis grunts out when she unceremoniously pushes him off of her, and when a radiant burst of mist and wisp fills the chamber he lets out a startled, “Ah! Freyja!”

Mhm. She had forgotten why she doesn’t use this chamber to sleep in, but she is reminded as to why: it is awfully cramped when she transforms into her bestial form. Her wings have to be folded in more tightly, her tail coiled around her, and her horns scrape the ceiling.

And of course, the bed was crushed. Small loss. 

Adonis stands between her claws, otherwise he would be pressed against the wall. He gapes at her. Before he can formulate a response, she opens her mouth. She smells the spike of fear, as well as hear the surge in his heartbeat, but his adrenaline is soon abated when all she does is slather his entire body with one big lick.

Now dosed with her saliva, he attempts to say something, but all that comes out is an astonished, incoherent mumble.

“You may not be able to smell it once you bath, but now my scent will permeate your very being. Anyone with a greater sense of smell than a human will be able to detect my aroma, and they will know that you belong to me.”

He rubs his hands over his body, attempting to get the sticky spit off of him, though his lips form in a small smile. “That’s good. I guess I didn’t smell enough like you when the pirates took me huh?” He sits down on one of her fingers, eyes fluttering. “I kinda wish I could smell your scent. I’m sure it’s nice.”

Naturally it would be the greatest aroma anyone privileged enough would come across. No matter, she responds to the comment with an appreciative huff. The salty taste of his sweat and semen still dances on her tongue.

Adonis appears content to begin falling asleep, despite the crampedness. He makes himself at home in the palm of her claw, sighing contentedly. Freyja takes the next several seconds to merely watch him doze off.

Yes, this is where he belongs, and everyone will know of that simple fact. 

No one else would have him.

After all, he is a treasure to be coveted and cared for.

* * *

If Adonis were the type to brag, he’d consider himself to be quite adept in the art of bringing Freyja to orgasm by just using his mouth. Having several months of experience at this point makes him aware of the type of things she likes. 

His tongue goes up and down her labia, burying his face into her crotch. He peppers her lower lips with some kisses before moving upwards to suck on her erect clit, flicking his tongue quickly against the sensitive nub to prioritize maximum satisfaction for Freyja. Adonis’ shoulders heave with each gasping breath he takes when leans back from her cunt, only to return to his dutiful pleasuring.

He can never get over how nice she tastes.

Her hips back against his mouth occasionally, and he _adores_ hearing her breathing pick up because he’s doing so _well._ He can’t look up at her face due to being blindfolded, with his arms bound behind his back, but the mere thought of her expression being laden with delight would probably be enough to make him hard again if he didn’t already cum shortly before he started using his mouth on her. 

She had ridden him fast and hard. Their intercouse was animalistic as usual, but there was something different in the way she slammed her hips down onto him. It was more… frantic. Even feeling dangerous at some point because of how hard she came down. Her scratches and bites seemed more energetic than usual, too, with his nipples being particularly swollen from her most recent attacks.

...Not that he minds…

A soft, sweet sigh coming out of Freyja’s lips makes his skin tingle. 

A few more minutes of him sucking on her clit ends with her grinding his hips on his face. His toes curl at being used by her, and soon his face is awashed with her fluids. He licks her lips when she finishes, delighting in the taste. When the blindfold is taken off him, he takes in the sight of her looking down at him with… a smile that still speaks of an unspoken hunger.

_Damn… This is the third time we’ve had sex already… And she doesn’t even look close to done._

His ass still stings from the beating she gave him… and red marks crisscross his body from the other times she had tied him up. He’s positively exhausted, and he’s even a bit impressed with himself that he can even still stand in the first place considering the… _ahem,_ pounding she gave both his cock and asshole.

Freyja moves her hand over his face, further covering his face with her fluid. “How very talented your tongue has become, pet.” She says, and Adonis beams at the compliment.

“I’ve learned from the best.” He replies coquettishly, “I’m more sweaty than usual after all that. Did you say there was an oasis nearby?”

They are far from Dacroustein, in foreign lands he doesn’t even know the name of. He didn’t know what to expect from a desert, it’s not like he’s been told a whole lot about them in the first place, but he never imagined that endless dunes of sounds could actually be so _beautiful._ It helps that his loin cloth and thong actually help with the blisteringly warm weather. This particular treasure is home to a variety of crystals and sculptures caked in sand.

The desert is a warm and expansive golden brown, as wide open as it is ever possible to imagine. Then there are the cities! The camel caravans! All those colourful tents and markets! It’s all so gorgeous! He greatly enjoys the hustle and bustle of the markets, especially when everyone around would stare at him… Though he _is_ always escorted by a literal dragon. All the desert inhabitants give them wide berths of space whenever he browses the shop stalls.

He’d always need to stifle a set of blithe giggles when that happened. It certainly made him feel like the prince that he was— much more so than he ever felt like back home.

Freyja rubs at her throat, a low rumbling reminiscent of a growl coming from her. She then huffs, “You would do well to prepare yourself for another round for when we reach the oasis.”

Her comment is teasing, though her voice is hoarse like she’s parched for water. 

“Ah, are you thirsty? Can you untie me? I’ll get you some water from the jugs. Wouldn’t want you going all the way to the oasis with a sore throat.”

She coughs then, her fists clenching and unclenching. When she stands to begin pacing, Adonis furrows his brow in worry.

“H-Hey, are you okay—”

He’s interrupted by Freyja loudly sniffing the air, grunting in the process. He doesn’t even have a few seconds to register what’s happening, because the next thing that happens is her barreling towards the exit of the treasury.

“Freyja!” He calls out, standing to run after her, “My hands are still tied!”

Adonis hobbles on after her, his muscles feeling fatigue from the marathon of sex they had for the past few hours. He’s briefly blinded by the sun when he exits the treasury, his feet digging into hot sand. When his eyes manage to refocus under the golden beams, he becomes slackjaw at what Freyja looks at.

A dragon. This one is smaller than her when she’s in her bestial form. Adonis can tell it’s a male, and while it isn’t his first time seeing a male dragon, it is the first time he’s seeing this specific species. From what he can recall from what he’s read, and what Freyja has told him, this one is native to these very deserts. Humans have given its species the name Seotulth. Its body is more slender than Freyja’s kind. Longer too, like that of a snake. Its wings are meant for flying, rather it uses it for gliding.

He tilts his head in befuddlement at the other dragon’s actions. He rolls around in the sand, making strange, guttural noises. Apparently satisfied with bathing himself in the sand, the Seotulth then lays on his back, throwing his head back to present his neck to Freyja.

Oh… that’s not good… Adonis can feel his body begin to tense. He looks over at Freyja, and his stomach sinks. There is a lingering heat, and she looks at the other dragon like she does to him—!! 

His eyes gaze flicks between the two dragons in rapid succession, sweat already pouring from his forehead from his growing nervousness. _Oh shit,_ he thinks, and his thoughts don’t get much further than that. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._

At the back of his mind he always feared this— even lost sleep over it! Freyja taking interest in someone else! Is this how father felt?! Of course, there have been many men that drool and vie for the tiniest slivers of her attention— the elves being some of the worst— but she’s always ever looked at him like that!

He grits his teeth, glaring at the male dragon with malice in his eyes. Jumping forward, Adonis begins to furiously kick sand at him.

“F-F-Freyja doesn’t need you! She has me! Go away!” The exclamation comes out like the cry of a strangled chicken rather than a man's voice. His face burns from a blush, his lips puckered in a pout.

The Seotulth gets back on its feet, responding to Adonis with a low growl… Which lasts for a grand total of five second before the sound is drowned out by Freyja’s own growl. Even in her humanoid form, the guttural noise that comes from her throat, alongside the wisps of smoke, puts the other dragon in his place. The Seotulth shudders, bowing his head submissively towards her.

Then, she turns her head towards Adonis, her eyes wide and smile even wider.

“Jealous, are we?”

He blushes further, though the continued hoarseness in her voice worries him. Freyja’s leg bounces, her hands still unsteady, and he has the inkling suspicion that if she were capable of sweat she’d be covered in it. She waves her hand to dismiss the Seotulth with a grunt.

“I have no need for you,” she says, not bothering to spare him another glance as she picks up Adonis and slings him over her shoulder. When she enters the treasury, he asks her a pressing question.

“Are you alright? You seem antsy. Are you sick?” He gasps, “Is it food poisoning?! I knew eating those sun-dried scorpions in the market was a bad idea!”

She throws him onto a pile of purple pillows with golden fringes, all items that were once owned by one of the past rulers of this very desert. He thinks he remembers Freyja calling them a sultan, or something to that effect.

Not that he can ruminate on foreign monarchies for very long, especially when a dragon is currently perching herself atop his waist.

“I merely crave sex, pet.”

He lifts a questioning brow. “More so than usual… What changed? And what was up with that dragon?” Out of habit, he cranes his head back, presenting his neck to her like the Seotulth did, despite him still being collared. Freyja kisses his chin, grinding her crotch over his, and his body begins to desperately writhe under the stimulation.

“Mhm,” she hums, “So you are unaware of the changes of the season, then.”

“Eh? Is it… Is it like… summer?” Granted, he doesn’t think he would be able to tell the different seasons in a desert.

Freyja leans back, her claws circling his sore nipples and he shudders. Her eyes hold a… slightly ominous gleam in them, and he suddenly feels like he’s entered into something dangerous. Her voice is husky, and a slither of drool comes out of her lips. Ooh… that’s a first…

She cracks her neck, her claws now scratching down his chest, and with her next words everything suddenly makes sense.

“Prepare yourself, pet, for it is time for you to experience your first mating season.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after.
> 
> I guess this series could have benefitted from being longer, with me exploring Adonis' issues more in-depth, Freyja's loneliness that she denies, and me taking my time with their relationship, but I already got another long-ass story that needs finishing that's taking me a millennia to write anyway. Hopefully this series didn't suffer too much because of that, or maybe it was the right length. Either way, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. What started out as completely self-indulgent turned into a subversion of the damsel-stuck-in-tower trope in which the dragon saves someone from their family, lol. It was fun to write.


End file.
